Through the Looking Glass
by squeekness
Summary: The Clansmen finally make their bid for freedom, will the Xmen be able to stop them? Mayhem ensues. Part seven of my Kimble series. I only changed the last chapter on this repost, I added to the Zander fight at the very end.
1. Chapter 1

Summary : The Clansmen finally make their bid for freedom, mayhem ensues. This is part seven of my Kimble series, you will need to read the others before starting this. See my profile for details.

Notes : Rated M for language, violence, and sexual situations.

AU but only because I chose to change a few things in my dear friends' histories for simplification, nothing drastic so please forgive. I wrote this for a friend who didn't read the comics so there is a bit of back history and explanation on who everyone is and what their powers are. I've been working on this story for years so I do ask that you don't use any of my non-Marvel universe characters without my permission. I love my Siskans as I do my children.

Pinklittewitch, to answer your question, I will be getting the boys home not in this post but at the end of the next. I would have combined these two pieces, but it was running just a little too long. It's going to happen, I promise!

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(One)

Day Four

The Clansmen stood on the inside of the barracks door, looking out. They had their weapons ready, eager for battle. They had prepared for this, planning carefully, and Valentin was impatient to begin. Seth had just checked in on them so they had plenty of time to make their move. Gambit was in the galley by himself playing solitaire and preparing another meal. Henry was downstairs with Kimble and Fallen, working on the engines. Wolverine was still off nursing his foul mood. Because the Clansmen had been so well behaved the past day, the X-men had believed them contained and were slacking off a bit on watching them, no one was posted on guard.

Joseph had already mentally removed most of the screws holding the security screen in place on the doorway. The rest were very loose. He watched Gambit as the X-man moved about the galley and waited for his moment. Remy got up from his bench to go to the stove and was no longer in sight. It was all clear. Joseph used a mighty tug of telekinesis to rip the light screen down. He made very little noise and he caught the strip as it fell, but he wasn't quiet enough.

Logan came from the back row of passenger seats in a hurry, claws out and ready. He knew what was going on the minute he'd heard the light screen fall and barked at Remy for assistance. Gambit came on the run and joined him. They were met head on and the battle began in earnest.

Each Clansman had a homemade weapon in both hands and came slashing. Valentin had removed his arm brace and was charging recklessly, not caring about further damaging his already broken arm. Bruce was true to his word to his Master and didn't hold back. He and Valentin tackled Logan, stabbing him repeatedly.

Joseph jogged past them and sliced an arcing blow at Remy with his knife. The thief had no real weapon, only his speed and dexterity. He dodged quickly, hearing the whistle of air as the blade buzzed by his ear. Remy danced around defensively, always a difficult target, but Joseph was still able to cut him slightly on his hands and arms. Gambit just grinned and kept moving, his mind working fast and his next move planned. He slid two cards out of his pocket, but was reluctant to charge and set them off inside the ship. Now that it had come down to it, he had no idea how much damage he would cause. He didn't think blasting a hole in the side of the ship was the best way to win this battle. He decided to try a little humor instead.

"I dunno dere, Joey. You look like you got yo' 'ands all full. Let Gambit 'elp you, d'accorde?" Remy teased. He spun and kicked Joseph's wrist, forcing him to drop one of his homemade knives. Gambit grinned, pleased with himself, and kept moving. If he was patient, he could get Joseph to drop the other.

Logan, being tag teamed, wasn't doing as well. He snarled in anger as he was cut over and over again. His body was repairing the damage quickly, but with two assailants, his healing factor couldn't replace the blood quickly enough. He was tiring and slowing down, making mistakes. Logan swung at Bruce with his claws and slashed his arm open, hacking three dark red trenches below the elbow and almost severing it from the joint.

Bruce screamed and fell back, dropping both of his weapons to grip his gaping wounds. Blood poured from him in a torrent and he looked like he would pass out. He dropped to his knees and squirmed away, retreating and shaking badly. He was all done.

_One down, one ta go_, Wolverine thought to himself, feeling optimistic. He thought too soon, however. The lunge at Bruce had cost him. He had overextended and Valentin took advantage of it. The Clansman plunged one dagger in Logan's exposed gut and slashed his throat with the other. Logan went down spraying blood in all directions.

At that moment, Maylee came out of Fallen's lav. She had just showered and her hair was wet. She saw that Valentin and the others were loose and screamed.

"Kill her!" Valentin bellowed.

Joseph didn't hesitate. He left Gambit for his compatriots and dove over to Maylee, crossing the room in three large strides. She tried to run for the safety of the lav, but she was too slow. He grabbed her shoulder and tossed her out into the isle. She fell awkwardly against the seats and he stood over her, grinning, he wanted to look into her eyes as she died. He raised his dagger with a wicked laugh.

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Kimble was walking out of the shop with the next batch of tools when he heard Maylee scream from right above him. He didn't hesitate, but acted instinctively without thinking. He wished really hard to be up there and spread his wings. He jumped up and as he did, felt that strange pinching sensation in his head as he phased up through the floor. He barely registered the fact that he was really flying and not jumping as he shouted her name. Kimble came up through the floor and through Maylee's body just as he had hoped. He turned solid just as Joseph came down with his dagger. It looked pretty, but it hadn't been planned. It was an accident of fate that Kimble was in the right place at the right time to save Maylee's life.

Kimble screamed in agony as he was impaled on Joseph's blade. He'd felt this before, oh yes, and Zander was there to remind him of it with a flashback of swords and blood. Still, Kimble refused to be distracted from his duty, he had to protect Maylee. He grabbed at Joe's hands, but he was too weak from phasing and being stabbed. He stumbled and fell awkwardly over Maylee, covering her with his body and spreading his wings as he went down. Even with his chest ripped open, the Siskan was still trying to protect her.

By Kimble now had a dim awareness that he was as telekinetic as Fallen. If he'd been properly trained, he could have tried to create a telekinetic shield to protect them both. As it was, Kimble was barely able to cover her with his body. Inspired by Kimble's apparent helplessness, Joseph freed his dagger from the pilot's body with a vicious yank that widened the rip in Kimble's skin even further. Grey hologram fluids gushed out of him in a flood, spilling over Kimble's sides to the floor. Joseph grinned and struck the pilot again. Kimble tried to block the blow, but his hands only slid down the slick sides of Joseph's weapon as it came down again.

"Stay down!" Kimble ordered weakly to Maylee as he gasped for breath.

Maylee cowered below him, trembling from the cold and shock. She hadn't been the least bit prepared for his dramatic entrance. His grey gel blood now splashed over her, chilling her and frosting her breath. She was stunned by his actions, he was the last one she'd expected to come to her rescue.

Kimble growled and snarled while Joseph continued to cut him. The pilot had been hoping just to cover her until someone else could come, but this was taking too long. He was losing too much fluid and becoming hollow. It wouldn't take long for Joseph to be able to cut through him to the girl. He breathed a sigh of relief when a large blue blur passed over him and Joseph was slammed into the wall away from him. Henry had arrived.

Kimble slumped down against Maylee, tired. He'd never felt so exhausted, so empty before. Before the overload, he could have permanently jumped back into the system to save himself, that was no longer an option now. He rested his head back over Maylee's shoulder and turned to look into her beautiful cat's eyes. He smiled weakly at her. "See? I toldja I would keeps ya safe..." he whispered so quietly she almost didn't hear it. He didn't close his eyes, but she felt it when he stopped breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

(Two)

Beast had come running out of the Engine Room when he heard Kimble shout Maylee's name. He had to duck in the doorway when Kimble's tools fell from the ceiling with a clatter. The Siskan could phase himself, but not anything he had in his hands.

Fallen was right behind him when she saw Kimble's feet disappear through the ceiling. "Whoa...!" she gasped in surprise. She knew Kimble could phase, but she'd had no idea he could leap like that.

They both ran up the stairs up to the Main Room. Henry saw Logan down on the floor but knew his healing capabilities enough to know that as bad as he looked, he would probably be okay. He kept running when he saw Joseph standing over Kimble and raising his knife for another strike. He slammed into Valentin's Second, using his velocity to carry them both down the walkway to the hatchway door. All those years in High School football still did Henry favors, Joseph didn't take the impact of Beast's linebacker sized body well. He crumpled with a whimper and passed out, stunned from being made a human sandwich between Beast and the hatchway door.

Fallen took on Valentin and Bruce easily by simply telekinetically lifting them up off the ground. Poor Bruce had already surrendered, but she wasn't waiting around for him to change his mind. She slammed them both into the cage hard enough to knock the breath out of them. Bruce groaned and passed out, his body not being able to take any more abuse. He'd already lost a lot of blood.

Valentin's upper body smashed into a support beam for the cage room with a sickening crunch. Fallen heard the sound of more of his bones breaking but didn't care in the least. She held him in place, pinning him way up high, and flew up to speak at him. "Give me one reason not to kill you here, right now!" she spat, raising two blue glowing fists.

"Because you haven't the will for it!" Valentin gasped, spitting blood.

She snarled at him and punched him full force, adding extra velocity via her telekinetic power to stun him and knock him out for a while. She let him fall next to Bruce on the floor in a tangled heap. He was right in that she didn't have the desire to kill him but it wouldn't stop her from hurting him again though, if it came down to it.

Gambit, now free, flew past her quickly to where Kimble had fallen. He'd seen the Siskan go down and the look on Maylee's face told him the news wasn't good.

Fallen didn't immediately realize how bad off Kimble was and didn't follow him. She went next to Logan who was balled up on the floor, his body lying in a syrupy pool of congealing blood. He was drenched in the stuff, his hands curled at his throat. He looked small and oddly vulnerable, not the way she was used to seeing him. She was compelled to touch his face and gently smooth his blood soaked hair from his eyes. She wanted to know he was really okay.

"You all right?" she asked nervously. He looked horrifying, any normal man would have been dead three times over.

"Ughh...Jus' give me a minute..." he growled softly, blood dripping from his mouth as he spoke. His throat had sealed up, but his voice was scratchy and sore. He was in severe pain and not yet ready to move. He could heal from just about anything, but it didn't stop him from feeling all of the pain. Fallen's hands on him were warm and comforting and he was glad she was there beside him. He almost groaned aloud from the separation when he felt her suddenly leave him. It took a moment for him to register that Gambit was screaming.

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Maylee had squirmed out from under Kimble's lifeless body. She was covered in his strange blood, but it was shimmering away off of her furry skin as if it had never been real.

"Kimble! Oh, no..." Maylee sobbed and tried to hold him. She cried out in surprise when her arms slid through him as if he was made of foam, he was no longer completely solid. His skin flickered and winked out, leaving a strange clear misshapen shell of a pilot that barely held the last of his grey fluids. Her eyes opened wide as she saw three brightly glowing lights swirling around in the gel. It was as though there were tiny stars living inside of him.

She looked up at Gambit in distress as he came quickly. He arrived in a rush, sliding up to Kimble on his knees. He reached out and quickly pressed his hands into Kimble's opened chest in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. Even he could see it was too late. His hands had sunk into the Siskan's body, freezing them instantly from the extreme cold of his inner core. That wasn't all the bad news. Except for the stars floating around inside of him, Kimble looked hollow, like a ghost.

Gambit next screamed in shocked surprise when his hands suddenly flashed a bright red. Electricity, like red flame, flickered up and down his arms as the hologram reacted involuntarily to the nearest source of power and sucked a huge draw of bio-kinetic energy from him. Remy's body convulsed as if he was having a seizure, but he couldn't pull himself away, the transfer of energy had him fixed in place. He continued to howl in frightened protest to the uninvited ravaging of his body. It didn't hurt, but it was the weirdest sensation he'd ever felt. It was as if his very life was being drained away.

Seth came up on the Main Room screen. He saw all the blood and the bodies and cried out. When he took in that Kimble had also gone down, he put his hands to the screen and wailed in dismay.

Henry was about to shove Gambit away from Kimble's body but watched in horror and fascination as Kimble's injuries sealed shut and the blood shimmered and faded away. The pilot shuddered and began to breathe again, shallow raspy breaths. It was obvious that the thief was healing Kimble with his power as Fallen had done, a welcome and timely surprise, and Beast was reluctant to interrupt the process.

Kimble opened his eyes briefly and groaned something in Siskan. His body became more solid and he lost the ghost like translucence. The stars inside of him grew dim as his grey fluids returned and washed over them, burying them back inside. His skin flickered back on and held.

The healing didn't take long, after a moment the red flash of Remy's arms was reduced to a glowing ember and slowly winked out. Gambit gasped and trembled from the shock of what had been done to his body. He was exhausted from the unexpected drain of energy and collapsed on top of Kimble, his eyes rolling back as he blacked out. The two men shivered from the exchange and lay still.

"What happened!" Fallen shouted, running over.

"It seems our Cajun friend has a compatible power for Kimble. I suppose I should have guessed it since your ability to power the ship is so similar," Henry explained, laying a hand along Remy's neck, checking his pulse. All was well, it was steady and fine. He wasn't quite worried, not just yet.

"He--He saved me...Kimble!" Maylee gasped, looking up into Henry's big blue face.

"Yes. Perhaps you've underestimated him. You wouldn't be the first," Beast replied, looking back over his shoulder to where Logan lay still on the floor. He saw Logan hadn't gotten up yet and went to him.

Wolverine was covered in his own blood, but all of his wounds had sealed up at least. Henry eased him up from the floor and helped him into one of the seats in the first row, trying to ignore the blood everywhere. Logan said nothing but grunted with pain and clung tightly to Henry's arms. He was very weak and lucky to even still be conscious. He probably wouldn't be for much longer. Henry lay him down and went to the barracks room for a blanket. He immediately saw where the weapons had come from and cursed himself for not being as vigilant as he could have been. He just hoped it wasn't too late.


	3. Chapter 3

(Three)

Kimble was drifting in a warm cone of light. He knew he wasn't in the Black Room but couldn't tell where this was. It was wonderful, though. Peaceful. He could hear soft beautiful music in his ears. Such amazing voices. He couldn't catch the words, but the message was of love and hope. He looked up when he saw a shadow cross through the light, a figure was coming down towards him. When he saw who it was, he was filled with joy, but was a little sad because he now knew he was dead. Joseph had killed him.

"Sheyman!" Kimble cried. He spread his wings like an angel and flew up into the other man's arms. Kimble kissed him passionately and began to cry. "I've missed ya so much...It's been so long!" He gripped him tightly and refused to let go.

Sheyman laughed and allowed himself to be unmercifully squeezed and kissed. He held onto Kimble for a moment, letting him cry out and calm down. He was human, a Siskan and had Kimble's lazy drawl. "Hey, my good Kimble. Easy now, baby doll."

"Don' gots that girl skin no more. It wuz yer favorite, I remembers. The Clan tooks it away from me," he said, sad now.

"Doesn't matter. You'll always be my baby doll. Besides, ya looks good in this skin, kid. You always did likes it better as a man, I knows that. It's pretty and you've grown up some. You should keeps it."

"Don' much matter now what I looks like. I'm gonna stay here with you," Kimble insisted stubbornly. Impossibly, he squeezed Sheyman even tighter.

"Sorry, baby doll, but it ain't yer time. Ya came all this way cuz I had a message fer ya. It's important, sos ya gotta listen ta me."

"What? What message?"

"You gots work left ta do, butcha gotta git through this bad spot yer in right now. You hafta find yerself again. Find Kimble. Ya hafta remember what you've forgotten sos you kin find what you've lost."

"What do ya mean? I ain't lost nuthin'. I'm still Kimble," he protested.

"No. Ya gots too much anger and hate still inside a ya from Zander."

Kimble shuddered at the name and put his head down.

Sheyman continued. "Ya hafta let go of yer anger. Ya hafta let go of Zander."

"How kin I do that? Evratime I turn around someone's yellin' at me or tryin' ta hurts me. All there is, is pain an' fightin'. Don't wants it around me no more. I wants stay here with you. No one's ever loved me like you did. There ain't been nobody since you."

"I knows it ain't been easy fer you, my love," Sheyman soothed, smoothing Kimble's hair back. His touch was gentle and kind. "But the greatest love of yer life is cummin'. It's not what yer expectin' sos ya ain't gonna wants ta miss it. Butcha gots ta be ready fer it. Ya gots ta be ready ta protects that love. Keep it safe. Yer goin' down Zander's road again. This is a vera dangerous time fer you. If ya keeps on goin' like ya been, things are gonna git real bad an' stay that way fer a long time. You'll lose that precious gift of love. Ya need ta git yer shit together, son. Ya gots friends now. Family. Use them. Let them helps ya. Don' push 'em away."

"What do ya wants me ta do?" Kimble asked quietly.

"You hafta play back them hologram memory files what got unlocked by the access code Seth found."

"Nnnoooo...!" Kimble whined sharply. He gripped Sheyman even harder and tried to tuck his head under Sheyman's arms. He'd always done this when he was afraid. "I don' wanna! Ya cain't makes me! Please! I'll do ananthin' else ya wants!"

Sheyman continued to soothe him with his hands and spoke softly. "You hafta, Kimble. I know it's gonna hurt an' you'll be screamin' an cryin', but sometimes ya hafta remember who ya been ta knows who yer goin' to be."

Kimble broke down again. "I cain't! I cain't! It wuz so awful! Urrgh! No! I wants ta stay here with you. I kin be happy here. I don' need nuthin' else!"

Sheyman took Kimble's head in his hands and tipped his chin up to look at him. He smiled at Kimble and kissed him gently on the lips as he wiped his tears away. Sheyman laughed. "Ya always were a stubborn one. But you ain't gonna git yer way this time, Kim. This is jus' too important. -- An' it's fer yer own good. Lot's of others are countin' on ya."

"Why? Them files ain't nuthin' but trouble. S' why they wuz locked away in the first place. I cain't go there again. I don' wants ta be Zander no more!"

"It's only fer a little while. The pain'll come an' you'll see where ya need ta be again. This is important, Kimble. Ya gots a job ta do. A vera important one."

"Why me?" Kimble whined, still sobbing.

"Cuz yer sumpthin' special. I've known it since I first saw ya. Ya haves a gift, Kimble. Yer so special, baby doll, I ain't even gots the words. You kin see inside a folks an' see what they want an' need. I always toldja it would be a waste not ta shares it. Now ya gots some new powers, too. That's good cuz yer gonna need all the skills you kin learn. Learn 'em well. Learn from anaone ya can. Be strong. Remember the lessons I taught ya. Do this fer me. Do it fer yerself."

"Nnnooo...!" Kimble gently bumped his head against Sheyman's and rubbed it back and forth in denial. "I cain't do it! I won't!"

"Yes ya can an' ya will. You'll be fine. You'll see."

"What kin I do? I cain't even watch over Fallen an' the kid," he complained bitterly. "All I do is fuck up all the time."

"Ya worry too much. You'll know whatcha gotta do cuz an angel's gonna come. You gots a job ta do and you'll know as soon as ya sees her what that's gonna be. As fer takin' care of yer Fallen... well, ya did th' best ya could considerin' how badly the deck wuz stacked against ya. She's got some issues of 'er own ta work out. Yer brother will see to that, don't you worry. You've strayed a little from the path, but you'll find it again. Now, Kimble. Do what I asked ya ta do. I hafta go."

"No! I cain't lose ya again!" Kimble sobbed. "Not twice! Not again, please!" He broke down again.

"Kimble, listen ta me. Ya ain't never lost me. I've always been here. I'm always lookin' out fer ya. I'll be waitin' here fer you, no matter how long it takes. I won't ever ferget ya. Not never. I loves ya, Kimble. I always have."

"Nnnooo!" Kimble bawled, unable to control his distress. Tears streamed from his eyes and his body shook from the pain.

"Don' ferget what I taught ya, kid. I hafta go now," Sheyman lightly touched Kimble's forehead with his finger. "**Remember**." he whispered.

"No!" Kimble screamed as the files started to play back inside of his head. He reached out, but clutched only emptiness, Sheyman was gone. "Don' leaves me! **FATHER!**"


	4. Chapter 4

(Four)

Henry lay Gambit down on Fallen's bed and covered him up. Remy was breathing normally and other than not waking up, seemed fine.

Maylee sat on the floor of the cage and sobbed. Kimble had saved her and now he was gone. She had never apologized for being so mean and now she was afraid she'd never get the chance. Fallen held her, crying herself. She looked down at Kimble's lifeless body and wondered what she was going to do without him if he was truly gone. He lay so still and quiet.

Henry passed them on his way out of the cage. He brushed his hands over in their heads in a gesture of comfort as he went by. He wanted to do more for them, but he had work to do.

He stepped over Kimble and picked up Joseph. His crumpled body still lay against the hatch door where Henry had slammed him, his backside already starting to purple in a huge bruise. Beast carried Joe over to the cage wall facing the Main screen and lay him down next to the other Clansmen. They almost looked like the Three Stooges, laying there all broken like discarded toys.

Henry went into the galley and got the rope and a Med kit. He began to tie the Clansmen to the fencing, making sure they could not break free easily. He knew they were all seriously injured but was more concerned about security at the moment. He would look them over after they were restrained. Of them all, Bruce looked the worst and he was quick to bandage Bruce's nearly severed arm as best he could. The bleeding had stopped and it looked ugly enough, but at least no major arteries had been severed. He would need an IV and Henry knew Fallen had some in her lav.

Next in the order of wounded was Valentin. Fallen had slammed him pretty good. It looked like some of his ribs might be broken. A bone protruded from his arm where Logan had originally broke it the first time. Henry was able to twist his arm and gently work the bone back inside. He was an experienced physician and got lots of practice in emergency triage because of living with the X-men. His adventurous teammates got injured frequently in their many battles. He worked quickly and efficiently, hoping they would all get home soon. He didn't have the tools to properly care for Valentin now. His arm was so severely damaged, he would probably need surgery for it to heal right. _That and a pin or two, _he chuckled to himself.

Henry was almost finished taking care of Valentin when he heard Kimble gasp and start to breathe again. Kimble gave a soft cry of distress and rolled onto his side, curling up. He groaned in pain and then lay still. He was alive, but not waking up. Henry blinked in surprise when he realized that Gambit had made the same exact sound and rolled over as well. It was as if they were both two halves of the same person. "Well, that was interesting." Henry mumbled wryly to himself and got up.

"Thank God!" Fallen cried. She went to Kimble's side and put her arms around him. He was fully charged now and didn't draw power from her. She touched his face, but he didn't stir or acknowledge she was there.

Henry walked past her to the cage bed where Gambit now lay curled up on his side. He shook Remy's shoulder, but he gave no sign of coming around either. Beast sighed nervously. "I wish he'd wake up. I don't like this."

"Seth?" Fallen called out.

He popped up on the cage screen, duplicating himself from the Main Room. He was drawn and pale. "Yes, Fallen?"

"Can you find Kimble and Gambit in the Black Room? Wake Kimble up, I think Remy's sick." Fallen had assumed that since Kimble had taken her there with a big draw of power, he must have taken Remy there as well.

Seth closed his eyes and looked around inside the system. "They're not there."

"What do you mean they're not there? What's going on?"

"Kimble's running another program."

"Then where is Remy?"

Seth closed his eyes again, concentrated and frowned. "Who's Sheyman?"

"Sheyman?" Fallen repeated in her confusion but Seth didn't answer. He was thinking too hard. One side of the Main screen buzzed and came to life. At first it was grey static, but then data scrolled up quickly and melted into hazy images. "What's this?" she asked, hopelessly lost.

"Kimble's playing back the hologram memory files. I put them up on the screen. We can watch them as they're played back. We won't know what he's thinking, but at least we can see."

"Why's he doin' that now?" Logan complained weakly from his makeshift bed on the seats. He had heard what was going on and stubbornly refused to pass out, his injuries be damned. His will was quite strong. "This ain't the best time!"

"Sheyman activated a Command Override," Seth explained.

"Kimble doesn't have any," Fallen said, perplexed. "Who is Sheyman? Is he on the ship?"

"Apparently, Kimble does have Command Overrides. They were built in the original codes. Sheyman activated one from a remote location. He's not on board the ship."

"How would Sheyman know a Command Override ---" Henry started to say.

" -- Unless he made Kimble in the first place," Fallen finished with breathless wonder.

The screen gradually cleared. They could see a marvelous stone building, large and open. They were seeing it through Kimble's eyes and through his perspective, though it was zooming out, changing into more of a third person perspective. Kimble was in the skin of a young girl now, running down brown sandstone hallways and past large open windows, laughing gaily in the bright, streaming sunlight. She was being chased by someone, a young man they didn't recognize. They were playing a game, tag or some such. Kimble ran quickly and passed by a shadowed ghost of another man who stood at a loss against the wall.

"Remy!" Maylee shouted in recognition and pointed to the screen.

"He's not in the Black Room," Seth said with wonder, his eyes wide and worried. "He's in the files!"


	5. Chapter 5

(Five)

Gambit came awake all at once. It wasn't like rousing from a deep slumber, it was more like a kind of bizarre teleportation. The last thing he remembered was holding down Kimble's gaping wound and then a kind of startled wonder when he felt Kimble draw power from him. The sensation was like being sucked down into a great cold white whirlwind. He came to a stop in a strange black void, lit only from above. He felt the wonderful, comforting light touch him and thought, _Sacre' merde! I'm dead again! Non! _

It had happened before when Sabretooth slashed him open on that horrible day under Manhattan, the day he'd committed his worst crime, the Morlock Massacre. He'd survived his trek out of the tunnels and to the hospital, but when he'd finally passed out as they were sewing him up, he'd had this dream of the light. Later he recognized the dream for what it had been. He'd nearly died but had been turned away from the light as Kimble had been.

He now looked up into the light and saw two figures silhouetted against the beam --- Kimble and someone else. Remy heard the word, **Remember**, and then he was sucked down into the whirlwind again and away from the light. He barely had time to feel relief that he wasn't dying after all when he heard Kimble screaming and then Bam! here he was.

Gambit was standing in the long hallway of an unfamiliar building. The walls and floors were made of carved sandstone bricks. Unlike the Clan Station, this place was well made and comfortable. The air here was fresh and clean, smelling of the outdoors. Paintings and tapestries covered the walls and tables stood nearby covered with cut flowers. There were glass-free windows spaced evenly about the walls allowing the fresh air and bright sunlight to enter.

Gambit whirled in surprise when a young girl suddenly ran right by him, laughing loudly. He recognized the laughter as Kimble's in spite of the gender change. She was tiny, only about fourteen or so in appearance. She was dressed in a sheer, silky dress that barely covered her. The dress was so light, she might as well have been naked. She was barefoot, her tiny feet making little slapping sounds against the stone as she ran. She was young, but already had the budding breasts of a woman. Her hair was long and black and streamed freely behind her as she ran. She was being chased by a young man and they ran out onto a stone balcony.

Gambit followed them, bewildered, and looked out at a bright blue sky. The fresh spring air and bright sunshine filled him with a kind of exhilaration and he couldn't help but laugh from the joy of it. It seemed like ages since he'd been outside on a nice crisp day like this. Brightly colored banners streamed from long flagpoles that leaned out from the walls. He was in what looked to be a fairytale castle. Green fields stretched out for miles in all directions. He saw a row of snowpeaked mountains standing tall and purple on the horizon. Gambit didn't know where he was now, but he knew it couldn't be Cerise.

" 'Ey, Kimble!" he called out after the girl. "What's goin' on, chere?"

"Yer seein' my memory files."

Gambit turned towards the voice that had answered his question and saw the pilot Kimble sitting on the stone railing beside him. Gambit was confused. He hadn't been sitting there when he'd come out. "Now dis jus' a little too freaky. What's goin' on? What is dis place? Are we dead?"

"No such luck, Cajun. That's only fer the lucky an' the good, I suppoze. Nope, this is me playin' back the memory files an' this place is Siska. This is the castle where I wuz made. That guy there..." he gestured to the young man chasing the girl. "That's my father. That's Sheyman, he's the one that made me. An' the girl...well, that's me."

"I don' get it. How can I be seein' you 'ere an' you over dere?"

"Cuz yer power's gotcha all locked up inside a me. Guess ya got the Ristle, buddy. You musta touched me, right? After I went down?" Remy nodded. "When I takes a big hit offa Fallen, she goes with me to the Black Room. You ain't in the Black Room now cuz the files're playin'. Yer here with me while I gotta run through alla this shit. Yer here fer the ride, I guess. Don' see how yer gonna git outta this any more than I am. Ya gits to watch," he joked wryly. "I gots an idear that this is gonna suck really bad, Remy, an' I'm sorry fer that. Just member that nuthin' kin really hurtcha here." Kimble didn't know if that was true or not, but he didn't want Gambit to be afraid. " 'S more like a bad dream. Well, not all of it wuz bad..." Kimble's eyes tracked the young girl and his face was filled with an infinite sadness and longing.

The girl climbed up on the stone railing, spreading her slender arms out for balance.

The young man gave a cry of dismay. "Kimble, ya silly girl! Yer gonna break yer fuckin' neck!"

Sheyman had Kimble's lazy drawl and Remy was startled when he realized he could understand every spoken word. They were speaking in Siskan, but he knew what they were saying as if he'd known Siskan all his life. It was, really. Kimble's understanding was now his. He didn't know if he was going to freak out or what, this was all too bewildering.

Sheyman followed the girl nervously like a clucking Mother Hen. He was tall and slender and wore a shirt and pants made from soft leather. He was barefoot like the girl and comfortable. He had long brown hair that fell about his shoulders and glinted in the sun with red highlights. He was handsome and had Kimble's blue teasing eyes. He looked to be about thirty or so, too young to be the true father of this girl. He paced her along the railing as he laughed nervously, holding out his hands.

The girl looked down at him with mock disdain. "I ain't gonna fall! Not less ya scare me 'r sumpthin'." She leaned forward and did a front walkover as if the narrow rail was a balance beam.

Gambit looked over the side and gasped. The drop was a least two hundred feet.

"Git yer ass down now!" the man demanded, trying to sound stern, but he knew she wasn't going to listen. She never did. "Kimble!"

Young Kimble looked down at him again and smiled with benevolent arrogance. She had Kimble's familiar teasing grin even though the skin was different. "Sheyman, yer gonna give yerself a heart attack worryin' 'bout me like ya do. You ain't gonna git rid 'a me that easy." She leaned towards him and spilled from the ledge into his waiting arms. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. "I loves ya too much."

"Then stop makin' me chase ya and pull ya offa ledges. If ya loves me so much ya wouldn't scare me half ta death alla the time!"

"Sorry, father. Jus' wants ta have some fun, is all."

Sheyman set her down gently. He turned aside to cough, covering his mouth. It was a wet, hacking cough, full of phlegm. Sheyman was sick and out of breath from the exercise. His skin was pale and he was more frail than Gambit had first realized. Sheyman looked back at her with tired eyes. "Save it fer later. Ya gots yer first session today."

Young Kimble turned away and looked pensively out at the mountain peaks in the distance.

Sheyman put his hands on her tiny shoulders. "What's on yer mind, baby doll? You nervous about today?"

"I ain't never been with anyone else 'sides you."

"Don' worry, yer gonna enjoy it. Trust me. Just 'member what I taughtcha an' be gentle. Always be gentle, yer a lot stronger than the clients."

"Father?"

"Yeah?"

"What am I?"

Sheyman laughed. "Yer Kimble."

She turned to look at him. "I knows that. I mean **what** am I? I ain't like you an I ain't like the other 'grams you brought me ta play with at Zartak's yesterday."

Sheyman was thoughtful. "Yer diff'rent cuz I raised ya diff'rent, is all."

"No. I spoke with Lashlay. He sez he don't see the pictures at night when he sleeps. He didn't even knows what I wuz talkin' about."

"That don't mean nuthin'. Not all the 'grams are a smart as you."

"He also said that he don't hear Zartak's heart beatin' when they makes love."

"Maybe Zartak doesn't have one," Sheyman joked, still being evasive.

"Father!" she said sternly. She wanted an answer.

"All right. You ain't like the other 'grams, okay? Yer special. You gots a shine on ya that they don't. You feel things that they cain't. Yer real." He touched her chest where her heart would've been if she had one. "Yer real in here where it counts. I loves ya fer who you are, fer what you are. Yer my Kimble an I don' ever want nobody else."

"I loves ya too, father." She kissed him again, slowly now. A lover's kiss. It sent an unconscious shiver of revulsion down Remy's back to see such a young girl kiss a grown man like that. Remy had to remind himself that with Kimble, appearances were often deceiving.

"Then don' be late, huh?" Sheyman admonished his tiny charge. "Go on now. Mind yer lessons."

Young Kimble laughed, a wonderful happy sound. She scrambled off, running by Gambit again. The thief reached out for her, but his hands slid through her as if he was a ghost. He looked beside him, but the pilot Kimble was gone as well. Remy cursed in frustration and ran after the girl.

The castle flew by him in a blur. Young Kimble was very fast and knew the building well. Of course she did, she had lived here all her life and knew nothing else. She turned down winding hallways and scampered down spiraling staircases. Unsure of where he was going, Gambit scrambled to keep up. He stumbled and fell after a particularly tight corner, but he never hit the ground. Instead he was towed along like some kind of floating barge, connected to this strange wisp of a girl by some kind of invisible tow line. The floor flew by him even though he was no longer moving his body and the sensation left him dizzy and confused, hurting his sense of reality and where he really was.

It didn't keep him from noticing that the world around him was changing, he passed by more windows and saw the light change as time flew by in a ripple. He didn't know how he knew this, but he sensed the passing of years. The young girl in front of him ran in slow motion now, her long black hair streaming behind her. The girl never changed, but the world around her did. The cut flowers and the paintings changed from old to new, to old again. There were some stutterings and blips in her movement, leading Remy to believe he was seeing gaps in the files, pieces were missing. As much as Kimble was remembering, it wasn't everything. He was still broken, incomplete. It made the journey a bit nauseating and it was all Gambit could not to throw up from all of this disorienting unreality buzzing by him.

Remy gasped sharply in surprise as Young Kimble came to an abrupt stop. Gambit was still moving and held his hands up defensively against the collision, but he slid through her image as if she wasn't really there. He crashed painlessly into a stone wall and sat there in a bewildered heap, his heart racing and his head spinning as he muttered soft prayers for this to end. It didn't stop his well trained mind from assessing what was going on --- Kimble had stopped to crouch down in front of a half open door, being as stealthy as possible, she wanted to listen.

Two men were arguing in the next room.

The first one spoke, an a older man by the sound of his voice. "Sheyman was a fool to make it. Don't ask me how he managed it, he's never had the equipment anywhere I could ever see! Still, it's stupid to make a Courtesan when you know you're going to die. They simply take too long to be properly trained. He has the thing working, trained or not! His medical expenses be damned, he would have been taken care of. Now we'll have to deal with his little mistake when he is gone. Did you hear the way it talks, Yosha? It speaks worse than he does now. Horrible. Just horrible!" the first man spoke. "It will have to be re-trained when he's gone of course."

"Yes, Maylor, but by whom?" Yosha inquired.

"Good question," Maylor replied with a sigh. "Not all of the handlers trust it. We'd hoped that by putting it in with the afflicted that it would get by in spite of it's poor training. We had no choice but to do that since Sheyman never got the right permits he needed. Damn his father and his money! Still it managed to raise concerns. It changes its skin whenever it likes. We want it female, it changes into a male. We want it male, it changes into a female. It toys with us! A deliberate defiant act! What's worse, Crayer said that in its last session, it performed a double without authorization and that both its clients climaxed at the same time it did. He said it was the creepiest thing he'd ever seen. He worries that it's controlling them somehow. That will be the last time it's used that way for certain."

"Is it telepathic?"

"Possibly. What it probably is, is empathic. It feels the emotions and moods of the clients or some such nonsense. This isn't the first time one like this has been made. It's some kind of processing error. If it's caught as soon as they are made, ones like this are always put down. The problem is their empathy makes them difficult to control and they can sometimes go insane, often violently. They simply feel too much. This one is too old to be put down so quickly. It's almost eleven years old already. Too much time and money have been invested into it. Plus it's Sheyman's. He is the son of a Senator. His father is much too powerful and we don't need him coming down on us. We will simply watch this Courtesan as much as possible. If it's dangerous or gets too out of hand, then it will have to be destroyed."

Young Kimble gave a soft cry of dismay and tears spilled from her eyes. She couldn't contain her fear and took off running, dragging Gambit behind her on that invisible tow line again. He found his feet and discovered it was easier if he just ran along on his own. He was quick and nimble and kept her in his sight this time. He concentrated on her and shoved his confusion aside. If he did that, he could follow her without trouble.

She ran outside into a small courtyard garden and squeezed under a bush with brightly colored flowers. Gambit followed her, but paused outside of the bush, uncertain what to do next. He could hear her bawling under the bush, but knew there was no way he was going to fit under there too. He had no way of comforting her. He sensed someone's presence behind him and turned to see the pilot Kimble again. Kimble silently leaned casually against a tree and waited for Remy to speak.

Gambit felt just like he was in A Christmas Carol. He was seeing Kimble's life played out before him like a movie. "Bonjour again, monsieur Scrooge. You gonna tell me what dis is, or what?"

"Don' know who Scrooge is, but that's me under the bush. Them guys up there talkin'? They wuz part of the Council. They wuz in charge of evrathin' what had ta do with the 'grams. Soon as Sheyman put me ta workin' they knew right off I wuz diff'rent. People're always scared of what they don' unnerstand. Siskans're no diff'rent. I scared 'em. I scare most people, I guess. 'Cept the clients. They all loved me just a little cuz of what I could do fer them."

"What did you do for dem?"

The pilot Kimble smiled up at him mischievously. "I took their pain."

"What does dat mean?"

"Cain't really explains it. I gots ta show ya," he answered, still grinning. He had an idea that although he was trapped here, he wasn't without some control. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage and get one of these humans to understand what he truly was. "You unnerstand this, Remy, you'll unnerstand me. The real me. It's just as well that yer the one what got stuck in here with me. Of alla yous guys, yer the one I'd pick as best ta unnerstand this. I seen it in yer shine, all that blue an' green. It's in yer sense of play and how ya never seem ta let nuthin' faze ya. Buckle up, Cajun. This's gonna be one wild ride."

"M' shine? What you talkin' about? Espe're, Kim!" Remy stammered, demanding patience and a few more facts. Before Remy could protest further, the pilot Kimble went right up to him and touched his forehead with his fingertips.


	6. Chapter 6

(Six)

Gambit gasped as he was sucked down into the whirlwind again. If he'd thought the last trip was as bizarre as this could get, he was sadly mistaken. What he saw next came to him like a strange lucid erotic dream. Like most dreams he wasn't the least bit in control, but simply along for the ride.

He found himself walking down a hallway made from familiar sandstone. He was still in the Siskan castle, just moving towards a destination not of his choosing.

He tried to make himself stop walking but nothing he did worked, he wasn't in control of his body at all. It was like he was a robot and obeying someone else's will. He finally came to a stop outside a doorway that was closed not with a door, but with a heavy red drape. A man stood there and greeted him in smooth Siskan, "You're late, Kimble. You keep that up and you'll lose your table."

Remy balked at that, the man had spoken directly to him, but when he made to answer, it was the little girl Kimble's voice that came out of his mouth. " 'S okay, Merrywell. They all knows me in there. The best is always worth waitin' for."

"Very funny, Kim," Merrywell replied without humor, moving the drape back and allowing her to enter. "No games today. Stay as a girl or else."

"Shure."

Gambit/Kimble was on the move again, going past the drape and into the next room. Now Remy was quick on the draw, but this? He had no clue what was going on.

"Yer in the files, Rem, just like I tolds ya," came Kimble's voice again, this one the more familiar male pilot's. Remy couldn't see where the pilot was however, the voice just came at him out of nowhere. At least Kimble had comforting words to say, "Don' be scared. It's just a playback, is all. This one in particular cain't hurts ya. If anathin' yer gonna just loves this. Just sit back and watch the show."

Remy protested, but to no avail. It was, as Kimble said, a playback and he was now a silent passenger along for what he hoped was worth all this weirdness. Instead of watching Kimble from a distance as he had before, he was now in the mind of Kimble herself, watching and seeing all she did through her eyes.

Kimble in his younger incarnation was willful and defiant in her way, as soon as she was out of the doorman's sight, she immediately shifted skins, becoming a rather handsome young man. How did Remy know this? Well, he was more than just a simple passenger, he was now linked to this younger Kimble, he saw what Young Kimble saw, heard what he heard, and felt what he felt.

There was plenty to see. This was a Siskan pleasure room and it was here that the young Siskan plied his trade. The floors in this room were covered in rich red carpeting and felt wonderful under the Siskan's bare feet. All of the pleasure rooms here in the castle were clothed in red, it was another reason Kimble loved the color so well. He associated it with love and happiness.

Cushions and odd pieces of furniture were strewn about the floor. There were futons, sofas and beds laid out in a pattern that allowed for some privacy in spite of the open space. Still, Young Kimble had a good view of most of the room. Small clusters of people were lying about, mostly in pairs. They were all making love, client and server, unmindful of the others around them. This was a Siskan pleasure room and had only one purpose.

Young Kimble moved confidently through the room. He spent his time with Sheyman in the skin of the young girl because it was Sheyman's favorite, but Young Kimble preferred to take his pleasure here in the skin of a man. Unlike the other holograms, Young Kimble changed his skins at will. The other holograms might have been capable of changing their skins if they had wanted to, but the difference was that he had the desire and free will to do it where they did not. Young Kimble had deliberately changed it from the one he'd been ordered to wear by the man in charge at the door. They wanted him to work as a female but he wanted to be a man and so changed it. It was a small act of arrogant defiance that wouldn't go unnoticed.

Young Kimble smiled, happy to be here, and exuded the same strong confidence that the pilot Kimble had when he was safe in the Lucky Dragon computer system. He was now fully in his element and smiled at all the wonderful lovemaking around him. This was the best. He loved working here and watching the others as they enjoyed themselves like this. He could feel the love and rapture like a vibration rippling through the air. He stopped a moment and spread his arms a little, all the better to feel it. He was dressed only in a tiny gold thong brief or "butt floss" as Remy had often jokingly called it. A "why even bother" garment that was for decoration only. Almost all of Young Kimble's skin was exposed and the pleasant vibration passed freely into his body. It filled him with warmth and comfort, making him a little high.

Remy couldn't help but smile a bit to himself. He had an idea what this might be --- empathy. Now Remy was familiar with the term, he had even sometimes wondered if he was an empath himself because of how easily he could charm others. Kimble was now proving that whatever empathy Gambit might have thought he possessed, it was like a match light to Kimble's raging fire. It would be so easy to get lost in it and Remy couldn't help but wonder what it was like for all the telepaths back at the mansion.

The vibrations weren't the limit of Young Kimble's sensitivity, there was more. Young Kimble looked over the crowd and the next thing Remy noticed was how there seemed to be a kind of glow about most of the people here. It was like they were fluorescent or shimmery. He realized that what he was seeing was the difference between the humans and the holograms. The humans were glowing and the holograms were not. It came to him that he was seeing their life energy, their auras for lack of a better word. The pilot had just said something to him about seeing his shine, guess he wasn't kidding. What surprised him was that Young Kimble had a glow too, only it was very faint and had a slight blue tint. None of the other 'grams had one, Young Kimble was unique in this room.

Young Kimble made his way to an area at the back of the room, heading for a long shelf that held a generous row of black power cubes. He laid his hands over two of the familiar looking blocks, these were the same power cubes as Fallen had used back on the ship. The cubes filled him with warm, soothing Ristle energy and Young Kimble smiled from the pleasure of it. He felt strong and eager like he could run a marathon without batting an eyelash. He was ready to go to work.

He saw some clients waiting to be served nearby and looked them over, selecting his first partner of the day. He noticed a red haired woman looking timidly out at the crowd and blessed his luck. He just loved clients with red hair, they were usually more spirited. He went to her and gently took her hand. "M' name's Kimble. If ya don' mind, I'd just loves ta serve ya today."

She smiled at his boldness, it was strange for a Courtesan to be so direct. They usually stood by passively, waiting for the client to come to them. Kimble's strange accent was pleasing to the ears as well, she loved the smooth sound of it and was instantly attracted to him. "Very well. My name's Carnya."

"Carnya, huh? 'S pretty name. It suits ya. Well, c'mon then."

He led her out to a vacant space. There was a nice comfortable padded table prepared for them and he brought her over to it. He made sure she was comfortable by moving some pillows about and shifting her body here and there. He laughed and told her playful dirty jokes to relax her as he slowly undressed her with care. All of his movements were patient and easy, he was taking his time and not the least bit hurried. He worked his hands over her body in a gentle massage and kissed her in between punch lines.

Carnya laughed with him and appeared at ease even though this was the first time she'd met him. He was so personable and friendly, it was impossible for her not to be charmed by him. She wasn't movie star beautiful, but her shimmer was very bright with her body so close and it made her seem more lovely than any other woman Gambit had seen.

"You're very different for a Courtesan," Carnya whispered, running her hands through Young Kimble's soft brown hair. He'd chosen the skin of a young man, a human of about twenty years in age and very handsome. His eyes were still the pale blue he'd always loved and they looked upon her with nothing but the purest devotion.

"How's that?" Young Kimble mumbled happily from the compliment, nuzzling her neck and tickling her with his nose just a little bit.

"You're so alive."

He just chuckled and purred, "Why thank ya, baby doll. That's cuz I'm Kimble and there ain't no one else like me."

She laughed at his response and lost herself in play.

Young Kimble continued to work his client, unaware that he wasn't alone in his own body. Gambit was here as a silent partner, seeing and feeling everything he was. Remy was still confused and a little frustrated because he had lost all control of where he was and what was happening to him. Some of that frustration was ebbing away as he felt Young Kimble's lustful passion rise and run away with itself. Making things easy was that this was by far one of Remy's favorite activities and that it had been a while since this X-man had been in the arms of a woman with the total freedom to touch and taste like this. Rogue, his current girlfriend, was cursed with a mutation that made it impossible for him to touch her with his bare skin. Sometimes he just forgot just how wonderful it was to be doing this. He'd have more reason to feel guilty at this moment, he chuckled to himself, if it had been his idea to be here in the first place. As it was, he didn't have the ability to leave. Guess he'd just have to accept this as one of the perks of this strange trip and go along with it.

As Young Kimble pleased his client, Remy began to learn things from her without her ever speaking a word. Remy didn't hear words exactly, or even get accurate thoughts as he would have if he was a telepath, but the knowledge just tumbled into him like he had always known it. This was no ordinary pleasure room, this was a room for sick people. Carnya was ill like Sheyman is now only it hasn't really affected her yet. Her pain had only just begun and this was why Kimble was being so very careful with her. Carnya knew it would get worse as her illness progressed so she has come here, possibly for the last time, knowing this is the best she will ever feel for what's left of the rest of her life.

All the human Siskans in this room were sick. As the Councilmen had said, Young Kimble worked only with the afflicted. There was an incurable disease spreading among the Siskans called Heward's Syndrome. They jokingly called it the White Death, but it was anything but humorous. The Siskans were unfortunately a decadent and promiscuous race and this particular ailment was a sexually transmitted disease with painful, devastating effects not unlike AIDS. It might have killed off the entire Siskan race if the Dognan slavers hadn't gotten to the finish line first.

The holograms didn't carry or transmit the disease, so the afflicted came here to try and get some measure of comfort while they could. Young Kimble enjoyed working with them because he knew he made them feel good and they could forget their troubles for a time. He took their pain. He could feel them intensely when they were close like this and knew how to touch them to maximize their pleasure. Unlike the other holograms, he had a natural gift for giving them the best workout with the least amount of pain. His empathy and caring for them was uncanny. In fact, he was quite popular. Some of his clients claimed his pain numbing power lasted for as long as several hours after these passionate workouts. He certainly boosted their spirits.

Remy also understood that Young Kimble deeply loved Carnya because she was vibrant and alive to him in spite of her sickness. He was telling her so with soft caresses from his hands and the gentle rhythm of his body. He was going out of his way not to hurt her. Young Kimble knew what to do to give her the most pleasure without her having to tell him anything.

Remy struggled with all of the information and sensations bombarding him. He couldn't control what he was feeling and couldn't force Young Kimble to release him so he just let go. Besides, there was nothing for him to fear, there was only this wonderful passionate love.

The dream continued, becoming even more surreal as Young Kimble worked not only Carnya, but moments later they were joined by another, a young man named Hayden who was much worse off than Carnya had been. He was scrawny and pale, his arms and legs covered in bruises that didn't come from abuse. His hair was thin and falling out, his pain and suffering plain to anyone who would look at him. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion and the realization that he didn't have much time left.

It was a bit much for the poor tagalong thief and he reeled from the sensory overload. He was young but hardly inexperienced before he met Rogue. He lived for thrills, he lived for pleasure. He ate well, lived well, and loved well. He got around, he had adventures. He'd never been with a man, but that had never stopped his curiosity about such things. He had never acted on those wonderings, he was quite firm in his sexual orientation, a man had never turned his head. In spite of his experience in the world of living and loving, Remy had never felt anything like this wild and crazy lust ripping right through him right now. Young Kimble was enjoying this immensely and so he was as well.

There was a point to all of this, something that Remy caught on to in spite of all he was seeing and feeling. As Young Kimble worked and played with his clients, Young Kimble's empathy was running away with itself and becoming telepathic, boosting the rush for all of them. He let that empathy go wild and it backwashed into two clients. It felt great for Carnya, but was even better for Hayden. All of the terrible pain from his illness was melted away, he was exhilarated as though a great weight had been taken off of his poor withered shoulders. His depression and despair at his impending death were gone, forgotten for the moment at least. Hayden had used Young Kimble before and knew this would happen. A tumble with this Siskan hologram was the best painkiller there was.

Gambit didn't know what to do with himself. His body was on fire, but a Catholic upbringing was hard to overcome. He resisted and struggled, trying to wake from this impossible dream. Remy sensed the pilot Kimble still nearby and heard his voice again. "Easy, easy, kid. Relax. Stop freakin' out fer a minute an' think some on this. Yer missin' the point, Remy. Can ya feel them?"

"No way! I got more of dis dan I want, t'anks!"

"No. **'Feel' **them. Their pain is gone. I took alla their pains, cain't ya sees it in their shines?"

Remy could. This wasn't just about serving clients and making money, Young Kimble was actually healing them, even if it was just for a short time. Young Kimble's motivation here was more than just making a living, he lived for this. The better he made them feel the more they desired him and so the more valuable Kimble felt. He needed this, the constant reminder than he was loved and wanted and most of all – he was needed.

The lovemaking was soon over and as all that emotion and pleasure began to subside and he came back to himself a little, Remy could hear their hearts beating. It was all around him as if he'd been swallowed up inside of them, it was thundering and wonderful, whispering of their gratitude for making them feel so very good. They all beat together in perfect time, but then gradually separated as Carnya and Hayden returned to themselves as well. He was aware of Young Kimble's disappointment that there was only two thumping rhythms here. He didn't have a real heart but wished he did more than anything in the world. He believed he was just as real as they were, but didn't have the flesh and blood required to prove it.

Young Kimble put an arm around his clients and held them to him. He gave them each a loving kiss and laughed. "How wuz that, huh? Did y'all likes that?"

They laughed with him, all of their pain now gone and their shines glowing sparkly bright and blue, a color that Remy was learning quickly to mean happiness and contentment. Those shines were not only brighter, they were a little more there than they had been before this started, almost as if Kimble had healed them in some mild way. Young Kimble neither recognized that or cared, all he knew was that he could feel their love and acceptance wash over him in a warm bath of joy.

Remy realized that this strange love vibration was more important to Young Kimble than the pleasure of making love. This was Kimble's true sustenance, not the power cubes nor the Ristle although they kept him alive. He had to have this. He had to have this reminder of his value and importance to keep his soul alive. It was what made him so bright and vibrantly real. Without it, he would slowly wither away and fall into a horrible empty living death. Remy could feel the intense love Young Kimble had for these two. Young Kimble gave it back to them in return for the power they had just unknowingly given him. He would never do anything to hurt them, he only wanted to make them feel as good as he did.

Young Kimble gave them another gentle squeeze. He was pleased by how wonderful and peaceful he'd made them feel. "Good. I'm glad ya liked it. You kin come sees me anatime. I'll take real good care a yous."


	7. Chapter 7

(Seven)

"Well, now that's somethin' ya don't see everyday," Logan joked wryly. He was feeling a little better now after some time to heal, and was sitting up with his back to the wall as he watched the big screen. He had stripped his shirt off and was using the blanket to feebly wipe off the blood smeared all over his body.

The files were being played back on the screen, but they didn't have the benefit of Gambit's perspective. They saw only what Young Kimble was seeing and not what she was thinking. They had watched her go under the flower bush and only vaguely saw the two ghosts of Remy and the pilot Kimble talking outside. They couldn't hear what was said because it wasn't part of the memory file, it was all in the minds of the two men. They watched as Kimble said something with that teasing grin and Remy was touched on the forehead. The image of the bush froze as it was paused. A second window opened up on the Main screen and then the sex file was played. Again, they didn't hear Remy's thoughts or anything other than what Young Kimble said out loud. They didn't even know if Remy was even seeing this or not. Everyone in the pleasure room was speaking in Siskan and Seth translated from a separate window screen as he had been all along. They didn't see the glows either. That was a special range of perception that didn't come up on the playback. What they were looking at was like a home movie. You never quite see everything that's there.

Fallen had turned Maylee's head aside when Young Kimble went to work. Maylee laughed a little. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Momma."

"Where did you see that? Never mind. I probably don't want to know."

Logan had sat quietly scowling as the sex file was played. He didn't know Carnya was sick or how bad off Hayden was although he looked terrible. All he saw was the Siskan hologram somehow manipulating his two clients. It made him suddenly and intensely angry. He disliked anything where someone controlled another like that, especially in matters of sex. It was too much like rape. It didn't matter to him that Young Kimble's partners didn't complain. Free will was Logan's one undeniable right. No one messed with his without paying dearly and he made a point of protecting that right for others with just as much dedication.

Henry stood next to Logan and handed him a wet towel he'd brought from the barracks lav. He also brought him a change of clothes. Henry was smiling sheepishly as he kept one eye on the screen. "Why do you suppose Kimble played that file?"

"Maybe he was showin' Remy what he was missin'," Logan joked without humor as he cleaned up. He was painfully aware of Maylee's presence in the room and was uncomfortable with every inch of this.

"Maybe, but I don't see him or our Kimble ghosts in the room. I can't help but wonder just how much Remy got out of that."

"Judgin' from the look on his face right now, I'd say more than he wanted," Wolverine commented, pointing to the screen.


	8. Chapter 8

(Eight)

Gambit barely had a chance to catch his breath before the file abruptly ended and he was suddenly back outside the flower bush again. The separation of his psyche from Young Kimble's had been abrupt and painful and it was too much for his poor overloaded mind. He jerked like a spastic as his legs gave way from the shock and he fell down on his ass hard and without an ounce of his usual grace. He was in shock and still reeling from Young Kimble's backwash of ecstacy and emotions. He tried to find his feet again but his legs wouldn't obey. He collapsed back on the grass, gasping for air and moaning softly. "Merde! What de fuck was dat! Mon dieu!"

Soft colored petals from the flower bush drifted around him and touched him lightly on his face. His senses were heightened now from his experience in the pleasure room and he could still feel everything. He covered his eyes as a means to limit the sensory overload and tried his best to regain some sense of himself. This was unexpected and frightening as if someone had slipped him some kind of terrible drug that left him just conscious enough to know he was screwed up but helpless to do anything about it. It would have been a lot worse if he hadn't enjoyed the pleasure room experience, that he could say at least. It could have been much worse. Finally, the leftovers from Young Kimble faded away and became only memories for him now. He wouldn't be quick to forget them.

The pilot Kimble sensed his distress and crouched down next to him. He reached out to try to soothe his trembling friend. "See? It ain't so bad. 'S only fuckin', huh? Sorry ya turned me down b'fore?" he teased, gently brushing Gambit's hair back from his eyes.

"Dat's a little more fuckin' dan Gambit is used to, mon ami!" he wheezed, breathless. He shivered from remembered pleasure, he just couldn't help it. What he'd felt there had been too strong.

The pilot Kimble closed his eyes and lay a gentle hand on Remy's heaving chest, 'feeling' him. Remy relaxed as soothing, calm thoughts flooded into him, blanketing him in bliss. This was much better, like hot chocolate on a snowy day and a soft feather bed. He understood what was happening now, they were now connected, this pilot Kimble and himself. The vibrations he was receiving from Kimble now were very pleasant and not the least bit frightening. It was like getting a nice big hug when he really needed it, now being one of those times. It gave him what he needed to regain some kind of control over what he was feeling, enough to get a grip on himself.

"Better?" Kimble asked, his bright eyes twinkling.

"Oui, a little bit. Merci."

"No problem. Are ya scared a me now?" Kimble asked, a touch of insecurity making his voice sound sad. He brushed his hand against Remy's cheek and let his fingers linger there, taking in Gambit's mood.

Remy shook his head slowly and opened his eyes. He could feel Kimble's warm hand and sensed Kimble's love for him as a vibration coming off of the pilot's body in a warm gentle wave. It was stronger than he would have expected, they didn't know each other well, though that was certainly changing by the minute here. The love was beautiful and fine, finding a place in Remy's heart, the place where that tiny orphan lived, the one that constantly craved a love as pure as this. It made him feel stronger, better now that the worst of this had passed.

The love was trickling into him along with wisps of Kimble's shimmer which he could still see. Remy could now sense Kimble as he truly was, a genderless being of pure energy that simply loved most living creatures he could physically interact with. Kimble loved him a little more than others on the Lucky Dragon because Remy had never turned him away and had always accepted him just as he was.

"What?" Remy asked when he saw Kimble smile.

"I wanted ta feels ya just like this. I knows ya loves me some. I wants ta feel it now while it's all strong an' powerful. Don' know if it's still gonna be there when alla this is done."

"Why? 'Ow much is left?" Remy dared to ask, trying to quell a rush of fear.

Kimble shook his head. "Don' really know. I'm kinda goin' through this all blind like you. I jus' know how it ends."

" 'Ow does it end, Kim?"

Kimble put his head down and took his hand from Remy's face. He didn't want his friend to feel his pain and sorrow. "It's time ta gos home. Sheyman is waitin' fer me."

Gambit turned his head as Young Kimble came out from under the bush. She had tiny green leaves and bright flower petals all stuck in her hair, looking so very pretty and fragile there with the petals and tears clinging to her cheeks. She wiped her face and smoothed out her hair, trying to recover from her fright.

"Time ta go, Cajun. Better hurry," the pilot Kimble joked sadly as he pulled Remy back up to his feet. "I always wuz a fast runner."

---------------------------------

"What are they saying?" Henry complained to the room. Like the others, he could see the two ghosts talking through Young Kimble's perspective but that was all. Their strange behavior perplexed him, it was frustrating him that he couldn't hear what was being said. He was intently curious about why Remy was letting the pilot touch him so intimately without trying to fight him off. It made no sense. Gambit was sociable and flirtatious, but not always physically affectionate with members of the same sex. Not like that. Interesting.

"Can you hear them?" Fallen asked Seth.

"Sorry, Fallen. Guess were just going to have to ask them when they come out."

"How are we supposed to know what's going on if we don't see and hear everything?" Maylee complained.

"Have patience," Fallen said. "I'm guessing we're going to see more than we want to anyways."


	9. Chapter 9

(Nine)

Young Kimble took off back into the castle and Remy staggered in his haste as he was towed once more. He forced his confusion away from himself like before and he kept up with her easily, it was simply a matter of keeping his mind clear. She scrambled up a flight of stone stairs and into a small apartment shared by her and Sheyman.

The place was small but tidy. It was all one open room except for a small bathroom off to one side. The walls were covered with shelves of books and beautiful paintings, the place of one who clearly enjoyed the look of beautiful things. Lovely figures made from blown and cut glass were everywhere, on shelves and all of the tables. An unfinished chess game sat waiting on a coffee table in front of a sofa. Cut flowers sat in vases everywhere among more statues of glass and stone. Everything was clean and well kept. A large open door led out onto another balcony, filling the room with the fresh smelling air of the outside. There was an atmosphere of peace and love here, reminding Remy of the large palatial homes of the Guild families back home in the warm climate of New Orleans. He smiled a little at the memory and felt a strong longing for home.

One thing that was conspicuously absent was any kind of computer equipment or machinery. One would have figured that a creator of 'grams would have such things laying about. If Sheyman had truly made Kimble, he hadn't done it here.

Young Kimble ran over to a small simply made wooden bed and gave a gentle nudge to a curled up figure sleeping there. Sheyman, her Master, came awake slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Gambit was shocked by Sheyman's transformation. Gambit had been correct in believing that a lot of time had passed. Kimble's Master was very ill now and had been for a long time. He was impossibly thin and drawn, his skin white and papery thin. His hair was wispy thin and falling out, and most of his teeth were gone. Still his shimmer was still there clinging to life and Young Kimble felt it.

Sheyman smiled at the young wisp of a girl. "Hey, baby doll. How wuz yer session?"

"Good, father," She gave him a small leather bag of coins.

He opened it and was surprised when he saw much she'd earned. "Twenty credits? How didja do that?"

"I did a double."

He smiled at her with the gentle impatience of a parent looking on a well meaning child. "Yer much too young ta be doin' doubles, kid. Ya shouldn't even be workin' as it is. You ain't had nowhere near enough trainin'."

"S'all right. I likes it. I kin helps them. I takes their pain, jus' like I do yours," she replied, leaning over to kiss him slow and easy.

He laughed at her but turned to cough. "Yer such a feisty, wicked thing," he teased in a raspy voice. "How's about some supper, huh? I'm hungry."

Young Kimble smiled and lifted him carefully from the bed. She was in the skin of a young teenaged girl, but carried his now emaciated body easily. She brought him to a tiny table in the kitchen area and set him down at the table. She began to cook them both a meal, singing a soft tune she knew he loved.

Remy was bonding quickly to Kimble now, something that was boosting his latent empathy, a power that had always been suggested in him but never fully pronounced. Well, it was full blown now and he was as close to this version of Kimble as he had been back in the pleasure room. He felt the care and devotion Young Kimble had for Sheyman, it was shockingly intense and not that of a slave to a Master. This was intimacy on the deepest scale, something vibrant and alive. Something lasting.

Remy wondered if this intense loving concern was the same Kimble felt for Fallen and Seth and guessed it was probably so. It was so strong and bright like Remy's love for Rogue and he couldn't stop the shiver of love her felt for her. Remy also toyed with the idea that anyone who felt this love so strongly, might also sense anger and hatred just as fiercely. If the pilot Kimble was as empathic as this and could actually feel Logan's non-acceptance and Valentin's hatred like a real thing, how might he react to that? Violently, perhaps. Remy realized that they had been handling Kimble all wrong back at the ship. No wonder things had been so out of control.

Young Kimble clearly liked to care for Sheyman. Her empathic sensitivity helped her to know just what he needed. She fed Sheyman carefully, sampling his meal in small bites as she did. Sheyman had taught her how to cook and she enjoyed the taste of everything, especially anything spicy or sweet. She chatted about nothing, knowing Sheyman simply enjoyed the sound of her voice.

Like a good and dutiful daughter, she cleaned up after their meal and gave her father a nice warm bath. The care was above and beyond the minimum, the bath water scented with rose petals as she washed him gently, mindful of his pain. They played and joked around, kissing and touching with all the love they felt with one another. She then wrapped poor sick Sheyman in large soft towels and brought him to the bed, settling him down with well practiced hands.

"I wuz only ten," the pilot Kimble suddenly spoke, ghosting into place next to Remy and making the thief jump a little. It was creepy how he just kept showing up behind him like that.

"Dat's awful young to be carin' full time for someone, cher."

"I wuz all he had. I took real good care a him, too. He done evrathin' fer me. He made me and gave me a real nice place ta live. A good place ta be where all there wuz, wuz his lovin'. He wuz always there fer me, always. I didn't knows it right away, but I didn't git the same trainin' as the other 'grams did. He raised me like I wuz a real kid... 'cept fer the fuckin' a course. I knows yer human kids don' do that. It made me kinda free and wild, but Sheyman liked that. Said it made me shine. He taught me evrathin'. How ta dance, how ta sing, how ta make love real nice an easy.

"We both knew that we wuz lovin' each other more than we wuz suppozed to. He was my Master and the Masters ain't suppozed ta be so involved with their 'grams. Council didn't like it. Wuzn't natural or sumpthin'. I didn't give a shit an neither did he. There ain't been nobody since him what came close ta the love he had fer me," Kimble finished sadly. He started to cry and wiped at his face self consciously. "Playin' the files back wuz his idear. Said it wuz good fer me, but I don' know. I don' know if I kin makes it through all this shit again."

"Paisible maintenant, cher," Remy said, coming closer to offer comfort for Kimble's tears. "You not alone 'ere, mon ami. Gambit's 'ere, too. Besides, if he love you dat much, den Sheyman's reasons must be real good, n'est ce pas?" he reasoned.

The pilot Kimble didn't respond, but stood quietly crying as he watched the younger version of himself interacting with Sheyman. She was tucking him in with care and once she was sure he was comfortable, climbed into the bed and curled up around him protectively.

Sheyman leaned to one side and coughed. It was a wet, choking cough, full of phlegm and death. Young Kimble lay a towel against his mouth, catching a small trickle of blood. The wracking cough subsided and Sheyman lay against her, exhausted. After a rest, he spoke again. "Y' knows, Kim. I been thinkin' 'bout who's gonna be carin' fer ya when I'm gone."

"Don' wants ta be thinkin' 'bout that. Yer not goin' anawheres."

Sheyman grunted a laugh. "Yer a stubborn one, my love, butcha ain't got that kinda pull with the Spirits, darlin'. I ain't got much time. I wrote up my papers t'day. Yer gonna go with my cousin, Zartak."

"He hates me," Young Kimble whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

(Ten)

"Who's Zartak?" Remy asked the pilot ghost.

"He wuz Sheyman's cousin. A real asshole, too. He didn't ever see Courtesans as real livin' things. They wuz just objects ta be used fer money. I made money fer Sheyman, shure, but it wuz different. We lived offa it and lived good. I didn't ever want fer nuthin'. He got me all kinda toys and played with me alla the time."

Kimble pointed out to the balcony and to the slight row of snowy peaks beyond. "See them mountains up there? Sheyman took me there once. He wuzn't ever suppozed ta take a 'gram outta the castle, but he tooks me anaways. Snuck me out with some power cubes. It wuz so much fun, like a game. Guess he wanted ta see if he could pull it off. It wuz so beautiful up there with alla the snow an all. I ain't never gonna ferget that.

"Zartak? Well, he never took me nowheres. He just took alla the money I made fer himself without even a 'thanks ya, please'. I didn't ever likes him. Alla his 'grams wuz sad an tired alla the time an' they wuzn't even empathic like me. He never played with any of us, just fucked us whenever he felt like it or smacked us around. Didn't ever git no love vibrations offa that jerk, I kin tell ya that. Sheyman didn't really know what Zartak wuz like. He meant well, but he wuz dyin' and only wanted some place fer me ta go. It wuzn't really his fault."

----------------------

Sheyman looked up at Young Kimble after her remark. "Zartak don't hatecha, baby doll. His stable's real small so he gots the most time ta play with ya." Kimble knew better than to argue so she just lay there quiet. Sheyman gave her hand a squeeze. "I wantcha ta do sumpthin' fer me, Kim."

"What's that?"

"I wantcha ta 'member the lessons I taughtcha, 'specially the one 'bout makin' love. Tell it back ta me now sos I know ya learned it good."

Young Kimble kissed the back of Sheyman's head and hugged him. "Never, ever fuck. Fuckin's fer lazy folks what cain't feel nuthin'. Fuckin' is greedy, fuckin' is wasteful. Fuckin's fer folks who only wanna do fer themselves an no one else. Makin' love is good an fine cuz ya gives a piece o' yerself when ya do it. Spread out enough pieces an' they'll all come back to ya, bigger'n when ya gave 'em out. The more ya gives, the better it is fer evraone else."

"That's good, my sweet Kimble," Sheyman wheezed. He coughed again, but not as badly as before. " 'Member, that it ain't about sex now, Kimble. This's 'bout evrathin'. Alla yer work, whatever it is. Cheatin' an' stealin' an' lyin' is all fuckin'. Evrabody loses. Gotta do yer work right. Give yerself evra time, alla th' time. Folks will see it an' know yer quality. You gotta 'member this, Kim, cuz things're gonna change fer you. Evrathin' changes an' not always fer the best."

"Don't scares me," she pleaded, starting to shake.

"Aw, I ain't worried 'boutcha, darlin'. Yer gonna be okay. I kin tell. Yer real special, Kim. The spirits musta liked me good ta send me such a fine Courtesan like you. Huh, the Council said I couldn't ever make one. I wuzn't smart enough. But look atcha. Yer so beautiful and fine. The best. Never needed ta make another cuz there ain't no one gonna come close to yer shine, baby doll."

She started to cry. "Don' leave me, please!"

"Nuthin's gonna stop that. 'S all right. We're gonna see each other again, I kin feel it."

"I loves ya so much!"

"I knows ya do. I kin feel yer heart."

"Don' gots no heart," she said sadly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Whatcha do got is bright an' loud in my mind. I'll always be able ta find ya. I'll look in on ya from time ta time, make shure ya keep what I taughtcha."

"Stay with me, father, please! I cain't live with ya gone!" she continued to sob.

"Yes, ya can and ya will. Yer much too strong ta stay down fer long. 'Grams like you live a long time, yer life's just beginnin'. The whole world is waitin' out there fer ya."

"Don' wants it withoutcha..."

"Yes, ya do. I seen ya lookin' up at the stars. I know yer wonderin' what's goin' on up there. Maybe some day you'll find out." Sheyman paused, rubbing her arms with his thumbs. "I knows yer gonna git lonely from time ta time, butcha gots ta 'member never ta steals their love, Kim. Never takes it without askin', huh? You kin do fer yerself if ya hafta."

"It ain't the same fer me. No heat. I cain't hear no hearts beatin'. 'Sides, why would I ever hafta ta steal it? Nobody ain't never said no ta me."

"You ain't had as much trainin' as ya should, baby doll. You gots a lotta spirit, too. Maybe ya won't always be someplace like this where sessions happen alla the time. I knows ya need 'em. I knows ya needs ta feel 'em lovin' ya. You gots ta be strong without that. Ya cain't depend on it. No matter how scared ya git, no matter how angry, never ever force y'self on nobody, Kim. That's the worst evil in the world. Promise me."

"I promise, father."

Sheyman coughed again. It was bad this time, and his body heaved from the effort. When Young Kimble took the towel away, it was bloody. Sheyman trembled and tears leaked out of his eyes. "Uhggnnn...it hurts so bad now!"

She held him, sobbing with him. His pain was blasting into her, cutting her up inside. "Father!"

"Won't be long now, Kimble. I'm ready. I'm so damn tired..."

Young Kimble held her dying father and cried, her heart breaking. She would never love anyone else again. Not like this. Sheyman calmed and gradually fell asleep, his breathing raspy and dry.

Kimble wouldn't leave him, not even after she felt him grow still a few moments later and gradually stop breathing. His shine flickered and then winked out, he was gone. She raised her chin and wailed, howling her pain and anguish.

What followed next was chaos and confusion. The neighbors came running, saw Sheyman had died and left. Some other people came and dragged Young Kimble away from Sheyman's body. It was a struggle, she was crying and wailing, begging to be allowed to remain with him. These people were unsettled at her strange behavior, they knew she was a Courtesan, but had never seen such devotion in an artificial person before. They chatted and worried, wringing their hands, unsure of what to do with her.

Kimble wasn't stupid, she saw in their shines that they meant to remove her. Knowing she would never return to this apartment, Kimble managed to grab a few precious mementoes before they finally forced her out of her home, taking her away to someplace quiet. Unlike Kimble was now, this younger incarnation of himself did not possess any telekinetic talent, she was unable to stop any of this from happening to her. It didn't keep her from fighting them like a wild thing, snarling and biting. It wasn't enough to free herself and they tossed her into a room she had never been in before, leaving a handler to watch over her. She stumbled to a window but there was no escape, the fall was too steep. She couldn't survive without the energy cubes anyways and wasn't quite ready for Death herself just yet. There was a bed in here and she fell into it, covering her face as she sobbed.

Gambit watched all this with an aching heart. He went to Young Kimble on the bed and tried to touch her, but his hands just slid right through her, they were still ghosts to one another.

"It's jus' a file. It ain't real," the pilot Kimble explained softly from behind him. It didn't keep him from hiding the suffering in his voice.

"Je sais, I know. But what you felt was real enough," Gambit said sadly, feeling her pain as if it was his own. "Je suis de'sole. Gambit knows dis pain, 'e's felt it, too. I 'eld my brother in my arms when 'e left me. It 'urt just like dis."

"Then ya knows there ain't no worse pain. My heart's been breakin' ever since. Fallen thinks that it wuz the Clan what broke me, but she's wrong. It wuz this. Evrathin' that ever meant anathin' ta me wuz gone b'fore the Dognan ever came. All the rest, well, I guess ya could say they wuz all aftershocks, ya know? Like a quake. 'Cept that sometimes the aftershocks is worse than the quake itself."

The door opened and a man came in to claim Young Kimble for himself. This was Zartak. Immediately, Gambit could sense that there was no love inside of this man. His features were hard, cruel, his shine reflecting a lack of understanding and caring. He looked on Kimble as nothing more than a possession, a slave. He took her home with him, offering no comfort for her loss. He simply shoved her into a room with three other Courtesans. He showed her a bed and sat her down. "This is your new place. You'll stay here until I call you for a session." He saw that she still clutched her bag of possessions from Sheyman. "What is this?"

"M' Master's dead. That's all I gots left," she replied sadly.

Zartak peered at her suspiciously. "Why should you care if Sheyman is dead? You're just a 'gram."

Young Kimble started to cry from the pain of her loss and his harsh words. The agony she felt inside was devastating and one look at the man told her it was certain to only grow worse.

Zartak just grunted at her. "Oh, I get it. You're one of them 'touchy, feeley' kinda 'grams, huh? Well, that's just great. My rich cousin dies and all he leaves me is a stupid defective 'gram. Look at ya. What a waste!"

Kimble cringed and backed away. Zartak didn't care, he dumped out her bag and looked over what she'd taken. "You've got a good eye, though. I can sell these at least."

"No!" she cried and grabbed at the trinkets. They were all she had.

Zartak spun and slapped her viciously across the face. "Get back, ya little bitch! Let's get one thing straight right now. I'm yer Master now and yer just a stupid little 'gram. You possess nothing because you are the possession, got that? I don't know what Sheyman did with you and I don't really care. This is my place and you belong to me now. You will do as you're told just like all of the other 'grams here that work right. You can't handle that, I'll turn you in to the Council and they'll put you down, understand?"

Young Kimble fell to the floor, sobbing. She had never been struck before and the pain was startling and overwhelming. Zartak gave her a kick on the way out, taking her bag of things with him. His vibrations of hatred were strong and hurt her just as much as the blows. She looked around her bewildered, at the other holograms, but they turned away. They didn't see the shines or feel vibrations as she did and so didn't understand her behavior any more than Zartak did, their programming didn't allow for it. For the first time, Young Kimble was completely alone.

"Well, that wuz a lotta fun, huh?" the pilot Kimble remarked sarcastically. "That about sums it up fer me with Zartak. He took what I had an' sold it. Fallen always wondered why I talk like this, huh? It's cuz it's all I gots left from Sheyman. This an' alla them good things he taught me. I won't ever change this way 'a speakin', never," he said, bitterness and conviction shining in his eyes. "Zartak wuz the first one ta ever hits me. I never felt anathin' like that before and stayed in line as much as I could. I didn' stay long, thank the Spirits. He couldn't take havin' such a moody 'gram around so he dumped me on someone else. I kept gittin' passed around a lot after that. Wuzn't much longer that I ended up in the box."

"What's de box?"

"That's where the 'grams go b'fore they git put down."

The file scene changed and Young Kimble was now sitting in the middle of an empty prison cell on the floor. The only light coming in was from a barred window. It was night time and bright moonlight came streaming in, casting Young Kimble's shadow across the floor. There was a flashing restraining collar around her neck and heavy cuffs on her wrists. She had her head down and was quietly crying.

"I wuzn't all that mad about it, I guess," the pilot Kimble explained looking down at himself. "I tol' myself it wuz fer the best. I wuz gonna see my father again an' he wuz gonna takes alla my pain. I wuz jus' all scared it wuz gonna hurt real bad or sumpthin' when they killed me."

"Did you try talkin' to de Council? Did you tell dem how you helped dose people wit deir pain?"

"Yeah, but it done me no good. All they saw wuz some stupid 'gram with idears 'a grandeur." Kimble's voice changed as he imitated them with sarcastic sweetness, " 'Silly ol' 'gram. Thinkin' ya kin feel. Thinkin' ya might be alive. Sheesh, what is this fuckin' world cummin' to, huh? Better take care 'a that right quick. Slam! In the box ya go, ya silly little 'gram. Gonna fix yer ass real good, you'll see', " the pilot Kimble joked without humor, his eyes flinty and cold. "Sound a little familiar, huh? Logan just don' know what it feels like, them daggers what come outta his mouth." He turned away as more tears leaked out of his eyes. It seemed like all he did was cry now, but he couldn't stop it from happening.

Gambit was quick to come to his teammate's defense. "Espe're, cher. Hold on. Wolvie don' mean half of de shit 'e say, mon amis. 'E jus' don't know how to deal wit you 'cause you feel too much an' 'e feels nuthin' at all."

Kimble sniffed and looked up at him. "He feels lotsa things. Hate, revulsion, loathin'. I knows it cuz it's all that's been cummin' my way. His shine is full of it. Henry says he's all full a compassion an' honor. What a fuckin' joke. Fallen knows what honor is. It's there fer my brother just like her love. Logan don't know what honor an compassion really is."

Remy grew even more defensive of Logan, his voice growing a bit stern. "E'coutez-moi. You listen, Kim, an' you listen good, comprenez? 'E does know honor an' compassion. It's dere, Gambit's seen it. C'est la ve'rite'. Logan's always been dere anytime we needed 'im, sacrificin' everyt'ing 'e has, hien? 'E's on de Lucky Dragon right now all cut up an' bleedin' from Vally. 'E never 'esitated, mon ami, not once. 'E took on Vally an' Joseph together to save all of us. To save you, too.

"De two of you, I jus' don' know what it is wit you. Neither one of you sees de other. Both of you just need to sit down an' talk it all out or punch each other silly, I jus' don' know which, but you two be sellin' each other short. You gotta work dis out or you'll never be right together, never. Comprenez?"

The pilot Kimble turned away towards the window, considering what Remy was telling him. He said nothing for a moment, then cocked his head. "Kin ya hears 'em yet, Remy?"

"Who?"

"Listen. Won't be long now."

Remy was quiet and after a moment, he heard the whine of Dognan ships coming down from above. Young Kimble got up and went to the window, looking out with wonder up into the sky.

"Just one more day an' alla my pain woulda been gone," the pilot Kimble whispered. "Cain't never catch a break."

"Non, dey saved you," Gambit insisted, ever the optimist.

The pilot shook his head. "Did they? I went from one fuckin' prison to another. Went from one bad Master to another. The Dognan put me on a shelf fer the Clan ta find. That wuzn't so bad, huh? Alls they ever took from me wuz time. But the Clan...they gave me things I never had before."

"What's dat?"

"Real pain...rage...an' Zander."


	11. Chapter 11

(Eleven)

Gambit blinked and then he was standing in a room at Clan Station Nine.

The switch was so swift and fast, he lost his breath and clutched at his chest. This really had to stop, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Yes, he was trained to take a certain amount of surprises and cope with rapid changes in a given situation, but this was ridiculous.

The environment was unmistakable. Stone hewn walls, the dank odor of despair. Yes, this was Clan Station Nine, of that there was no doubt. Remy looked around him and saw he was in a dormitory with six beds, not unlike the one he and his teammates had shared before. The room was small and close as theirs had been, there was no privacy. He turned and saw a young man sleeping on the bed closest to him. He didn't recognize the skin but knew intuitively that this was still Young Kimble. The Siskan was dreaming, a small smile on his face.

"Well, here we are, huh?" the pilot Kimble grumbled, appearing like magic as always by Remy's side. "The beginnin' of the end. Don' worry, this won't take too long. This is it, the day Zander lost it."

"So it's true den. You was Zander?"

"Yeah. It's true."

Remy shivered at that but tried to stay focused on what he was seeing. He had to learn, had to remember this if and when they got out of here. Remy had hated his stay at Nine and could see that Young Kimble would hate it for all the same reasons he did. It was dark and dreary here, worse than he remembered, and not bright and sunny as the Siskan castle had been. The only color here was the stony grey of the rough carved walls. It was cold and lifeless. With Kimble's heightened senses effecting his own, Remy felt this more intensely than before. It brought back all of the terrible memories of the Morlock tunnels, but he did his best to shove them down. He had to keep his wits if he was going to survive this strange adventure. Kimble needed him and he wanted to be there for his friend.

Young Kimble woke abruptly to the sound of an internal alarm. There were no clocks here but that didn't mean the Siskan had no awareness of time. He was supposed to be somewhere and so had set an internal chime to wake himself, one of the perks of being a machine. He shut it off with a groan. "Sheyman..." he sobbed softly, his heart still aching from the loss.

He tried to hang on to the beauty of the dream but it was already fading. He much preferred to sleep late, but he had to go to work. He rose stiffly and put his feet on the frigid stony floor, shivering with misery as much as the cold. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched, looking around and seeing nothing he loved. He whimpered softly again, not even motivated to move.

Remy's time spent with both Kimbles wasn't wasted. The longer he was in direct contact with them like this, the stronger the empathic bond was growing. It wasn't as strong as when they were melded together in the pleasure room, but he was aware of Young Kimble's thoughts as if they were his own. He was feeling what Young Kimble felt.

It had only been a short time since the Dognan had come to Siska. At least that's how it felt to this Young Kimble. His internal clock told him all that had happened sixty years ago, but he'd only been awake for just a few short weeks of it. The Dognan had come with their guns and their terrible ships and slaughtered all the living Siskans. The holograms they stole and used for themselves along with whatever other technology struck their fancy. Young Kimble was taken, but had only fragmented, shattered memories of this. He remembered almost none of it, only that it had happened.

It didn't matter, through an act of fate he was shut down for storage and shelved until the Clan came and spirited him and some other 'grams out of a Dognan warehouse. It might have been better for him if he'd never been found.

Young Kimble and four other Courtesans had been activated and awakened by Clan programmers. They were put to work here and his old life of luxury and carefree living was officially over. He found himself now in this dormitory, as good as alone even with the other holograms here and not quite sure what to do with himself.

The living conditions here were vastly different than what he'd grown accustomed to. The food here in the Station was nasty to him so he chose to go without. No warm soft beds with silken sheets awaited him. He now had a cot with rough, wooly blankets that scratched and hurt his sensitive skin. The only advantage of being a hologram was that he was immune to the head lice that infested everyone else. He almost never had the chance to shower and bathing was out of the question. That was a privilege denied. He wasn't real, they said. How would he know the difference between cold sprinkles or a long luxurious soak in hot scented water? the Clan thought.

_The heathens,_ he sighed. At least he didn't sweat for real and so didn't stink like them.

Life had been easy with Sheyman and in the pleasure houses. Young Kimble could sleep as late as he wanted and was never run by a clock. Here he had a schedule and he would be punished severely if he was late. He had been unshelved and awake now for five weeks in this shithole and he still struggled with the concept of tardiness.

Young Kimble had a small box under his bed and he reached out to grab it. He looked around him as he did this, but the other holograms were still asleep. He couldn't relate to them because he knew now he was never going to be like them. They were the standard issue Courtesans, properly made, and could work here without the pain and they could sleep without the nightmares. They didn't 'feel' things as he did, they weren't empathic as he was. He was a mutant himself for lack of a better word. A bizarre mutant hologram. He was alive in a way they never would be and so he never mingled with them and kept himself isolated and alone.

He slid the box out and looked inside. He had some small glass animals stashed within and he picked one up, holding it carefully in his hands. They were so beautiful to him, like glistening memories of another time. They twinkled gently in the light of a small torch that burned from the wall nearby. He smiled, enchanted.

"What's dis?" Remy asked the pilot Kimble.

"Pretty, ain't they? Got 'em offa some Clan kids that wuzn't lookin'. I knew it wuz bad ta steals, but them kids didn' know from beauty, huh? All they ever did wuz break stuff. When I sawr them I just hadta have 'em. I had ta have the glass. It wuz like holdin' Sheyman in my hands. He always had glass things around. He liked the little rainbows inside of 'em jus' like I did."

Someone began to stir and Young Kimble quickly put the box away where he'd hidden it. He rose and made his way into a bathroom. Remy was familiar enough with these rough uninviting rooms, there was no real plumbing and no toilet. The sink was old fashioned as were all the Clan fixtures, and he had to use a hand pump to draw water. It was ice cold and horrible. Young Kimble splashed the unfriendly water on his face and looked in the mirror.

His current appearance was very different than he was as a pilot. His hair was a golden blond and tied back in a long ponytail, Clan style. His eyes were dark brown and had a haunted, sorrowful look. His skin had the flesh tones of a normal human, not the sparkling whiteness Remy had become used to. His face was smooth, clean shaven. He was handsome in the same way Kane had been, even resembled him a little. He didn't appear to notice Gambit's ghostly reflection in the mirror beside him, he was looking at himself.

Young Kimble saw the lost look in his eyes and suddenly smiled, pretending to be happy. The teasing eyes and wry grin changed the whole look of his face. Now he was Kimble, there was no mistaking the vibrant personality Remy knew in spite of the changes. "I miss you." Young Kimble whispered softly to himself, his false happiness fading away. He turned away sadly and left.

He walked out into the crowded hallways of Clan Station Nine, dragging Remy's ghost with him. Young Kimble was bumped, jostled and battered as he made his way to the Clan training rooms. He passed a locker room and paused just outside. He smiled with a happy thought and entered.

Young Kimble really didn't have time for this, but he couldn't help himself. He had always had a problem with impulse control, especially when it came to having fun. The room was stony as were all the others but it instead of beds, it was filled with rows of wooden storage boxes used as lockers and benches. The back wall had a long mirror that ran the whole length of it and some sinks with pumps. He walked all the way to the back row, looking for someone, hoping his reflection wouldn't give him away. It didn't. He grinned as he found his unsuspecting prey.

Remy was surprised at first by who he saw sitting there, but then it all made sense. Of course, this was where it all started.

Bruce sat on a bench near the back wall, his back to Young Kimble. He was dressed for practice and had a tight support bandage around one knee, aid for a recent injury. He was tying his boot laces, his mind a million miles away. He looked very young and Remy realized that the last ten years of fighting with the Dognan and the loss of Justin had aged him considerably in the short time that he'd known the young Clansman.

"Good morrow, Bruce," Young Kimble purred seductively at the young man. His voice was pitched lower and more gravelly than it was as a pilot, it was now the low growl that the pilot Kimble had come to know all too well.

Bruce looked up startled, but then smiled warmly. "Oh? Zander. Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Lookin' fer you," he said suggestively, licking his lips.

-------------------------

Back inside the Lucky Dragon, Bruce jerked against the cage, his eyes wide. "I told you it was him!" he wheezed, his body shaking with the shock of recognition. "I knew it!"

Logan turned his head towards him sharply. Bruce had been the first of the Clansmen to wake, although Valentin and Joseph were already beginning to stir and look up at the screen. They were all bound tightly, no one was going anywhere for a while, Beast had seen to that.

"What?" Logan asked Bruce in response to his statement.

"Zander! That's him! I recognize his face!" Bruce was trembling with his excitement. "My, God... Look at him...so beautiful..." he trailed off, suddenly conscious of the attention he had called to himself. He said nothing more but watched the screen with a child's wide eyed wonder.

Wolverine was confused. He'd thought Bruce was afraid of this Zander fellow but it didn't look that way now. Just what was Bruce's connection with Zander, anyways? Wolverine felt a surge of frustration. What he was seeing on the screen was hard to decipher and he felt a twinge of jealousy for Remy, at least he was getting cliff notes from the pilot, their ghosts could be seen all along even if their conversation was private. It would be so much easier for everyone else if they could be heard. At least it was clear Gambit wasn't agitated, but was going along with what he was being told.

_That's all right_, Logan was thinking. _Whatever._ He would be patient. If he didn't find out what he needed to know from the files now, he would have a nice little chat with Bruce later. He was going to find out everything once and for all.

-----------------------------

Zander wasn't his real name and Kimble hated it. There were only five working Siskan holograms here, all of them had been forced to remain male and were given new names. It was hoped this would help them forget who they'd been. It may have worked for the others, but the unique and empathic Zander remembered everything and it was slowly killing him.

Remy leaned comfortably against the mirror now and watched the show. He had known Bruce was gay from watching Justin die and could see Zander knew it, too. He could tell by their body posture and the way they positioned themselves that these two knew each other quite well and were playing some kind of flirtatious mind game. Remy shook his head with a sigh and hoped this encounter wasn't going to be as graphic as the last. With Kimble, he never knew what to expect. At least he had less fear now, he was hoping that since he wasn't directly inside Young Kimble's head he would be spared the full onslaught of the Siskan's emotions and the duality of what Kimble's body was feeling. For the moment it seemed as though he was now limited to watching, not feeling, and he was quite happy with that.

Bruce's face flushed and he cleared his throat with playful nervousness as Zander approached. "I, uh, have to go to practice," he stammered lamely and stood awkwardly to go, hesitating on purpose.

"So do I," Zander said, deliberately blocking his way. He boldly backed Bruce up against the wall, laying his arms on either side of his head and boxing him in.

Bruce didn't resist, it was part of the game. Zander sniffed at him and grunted, amused. He could see that Bruce had become aroused, it was all there in his shine. Inspired to continue, Zander pressed his body against him and slowly licked his neck, tasting him. Bruce shivered from the caress and sweated with the heat of his own body.

"**Wasayachay rah tan a say.** Let's finish this game now, Brucie, please!" Zander breathed in a passionate whisper.

"I...I can't!" Bruce gasped, trapped between what he wanted and what he wouldn't do.

Zander kissed him passionately, forcefully. He needed this so badly, how could Bruce not see it?

Bruce returned his kiss with equal vigor, made weak by indecision. Zander thought he felt Bruce's acceptance and laughed, relieved. He needed to feel Bruce's love in the worst way. This was going to make up for all the shit he'd been through the past weeks, this was going to save him. Bruce's shine was so intoxicating this close up, he almost couldn't contain his anticipation of the coming rush.

"This won' takes long," Zander said, licking Bruce's neck once more and breathing him in. He loved the smell of this human, Bruce was one of the few here who made an effort to stay clean.

He began to unbuckle Bruce's belt, but Bruce put his hands over his, stopping him. "I want to but I can't. Not right now," he said, pleading with his eyes.

Zander was instantly furious, a bright spike of fury that even Remy could see. Zander's frustration was more than he could bear. Zander felt the acid anger rise up his throat and swallowed it. "You been lookin' at me, playin' with me fer a while now, Brucie. It's been fun but I ain't inclined to wait no more," he said, a hard edge coming into his voice. Anger was new to him, but was coming more and more easily the longer he was here. Without Sheyman's guidance, Zander was coming unraveled.

"Zander, please! We have to wait!"

Zander ignored him and kissed him again, insistent. He shivered, making his ersatz Clan clothes disappear. He pressed his naked body against his prisoner and grasped Bruce's hands, forcing the man to stroke his naked hips, knowing what effect it would have on this human who already teetered on the fence of desire. Zander burned with a lust so fierce, his promise to Sheyman about not forcing himself on anyone was being shoved aside. He wanted Bruce and wanted him now, the consequences be damned. He was like a vampire and once invited, wasn't going to leave without the prize.

Bruce moaned with passion and gave up as he succumbed to Zander's forceful persuasion. He freely slid his hands around Zander's waist and up the hard muscles of his back. As Zander had anticipated, Bruce was now aroused beyond his ability to control. The feel of Zander's naked skin was too much. Bruce didn't realize it, but some of Zander's fierce desire was backwashing into him from the full contact of the Siskan's body. It was coming off of Zander in unconscious lustful waves, affecting him like a drug and breaking down his resistance.

Zander had no control over this, he wasn't even aware it was happening. All he knew was that if he pressed the issue enough, Bruce was sure to relent and give him what he wanted. It was becoming harder and harder for this receptive human to say no and the Siskan could feel it.

"Ya know ya wants it, Brucie. Ya knows I kin give ya what ya wants, the way ya wants it. Ya knows what I am and what I kin do fer you. I don't see what yer problem is," Zander said, his voice husky in Bruce's ear.

"I'm the problem, asshole."

Zander turned his head to view the new arrival. Justin had walked in and was now standing in the isle, his hands on his hips in a display of barely controlled fury.

Zander was much too naive to be fearful. He looked back at Bruce with that sly grin. "Well, what do ya know 'bout that? Sos ya got a friend? Big fuckin' deal. I gots files fer three."


	12. Chapter 12

(Twelve)

The Clansmen were up against the cage, tied in place. They were all awake now and even though they were injured, were now watching the screen, as transfixed by the unfolding events as the others. Valentin had propped himself up, but was wheezing noticeably from his injuries. Henry had spent some time taping his ribs while he watched the files, but Valentin was not exactly comfortable being lashed to the cage like that.

Valentin now glared at Bruce with his bruised and swollen eyes. "I shoulda known better than to keep a little faggot boy like you around. No wonder you're so lousy in a fight," he growled menacingly, unable to keep from saying something nasty. Watching these men he thought he had known so well up on the screen filled him revulsion. It was clear from the look on Justin's face that he was just going to have to accept the truth that this fine officer had been in fact gay. It had been right in front of him the whole time and Valentin never noticed.

Bruce ignored the dig. He was looking up in wonder at Zander on the screen. He was lost in a emotional storm. He didn't know what was worse, seeing Justin again so vibrant and alive or Zander. Justin's loss was still too fresh and filled him with pain, but the shock of seeing Zander again was just as disturbing. The familiar face, the hard lean body, forgotten over the years, brought back a flood of memories. He had really liked Zander, even considering him a friend at the time. He'd forgotten how much he'd wanted him.

What had he been thinking at the time? That the Siskan holograms were new and everyone knew about them and what they were really for. The Clan had awakened them not for use in a pleasure room, but for use as sparring partners in the Clan's rigorous training programs. What could be better than a sparring partner that could be crammed full of the best fighting files and then repaired at will by use of the power cubes? It seemed impossible that a Courtesan could be used for such a violent purpose instead of in the bedroom, but all four had worked out well, especially this one. Even so, nobody believed the Siskans were sentient or even close to being real people.

Bruce had been paired with Justin a long time already, even back then. They had grown up together, falling in love even before they were teenagers. Somewhere along the way he had bumped into Zander and there had been a spark there, something that said Zander wasn't the least bit satisfied with being a tool for the Clan and wanted something more, preferably with him. Bruce hadn't wanted anything serious, that was absurd, but then Zander wasn't a real person, he was just some Siskan machine. Bruce found himself conflicted over his interest in Zander, dragging his feet and drawing out the game with the Siskan while he tried to make up his mind if what he was doing was wrong. It wasn't cheating unless it was flesh and blood, right?

From across the room, Logan couldn't hide the disgust that crossed his face. This situation was getting uglier by the minute. He wasn't a big fan of homosexuality, but that wasn't the problem. He didn't like how Zander had forced himself on Bruce.

Wolverine was a man of many issues and many secrets. He'd seen a lot of things in his long life. His experiences had molded him and affected his opinions and judgements. He'd spent some time in a mental hospital and had even been jailed a time or two. He'd seen men beaten and raped there. What he was looking at now didn't fall much shorter than that in his opinion. Okay, Bruce wasn't exactly kicking and screaming about it, but there was no denying Kimble's persuasion. Logan was convinced Kimble had done something chemically or telepathically to Bruce to wear him down. Logan had a serious problem with that, especially when it looked to him like he'd done the same thing to Carya and Hayden. Logan disliked rape in any form and it brought up a deep dark rage from deep within him.

Logan was a complex man with a fragmented memory and a worse temper. The Professor had helped him deal with it by teaching him to compartmentalize what memories he had and the deep emotions that came with them. Logan had a head full of locked doors, most of them labeled, "Do Not Enter". The majority of the abuse he'd suffered or witnessed was locked behind those doors. Watching Kimble wear down Bruce like that was causing more than one of those doors to ease gently open, letting out screams of rage and frustration. In his weakened state, Logan barely had the strength to keep them closed. A low growl rumbled low and deep from his chest, catching Henry's attention.

"What?" Henry asked softly, almost not wanting to know. He knew the growl meant Logan was really pissed off about something.

Logan didn't answer, but the growl was next replaced with a wicked smile. He wasn't happy with Kimble, but it seemed he wasn't the only one. Kimble was going to get what he deserved.


	13. Chapter 13

(Thirteen)

Remy dodged out of the way as Zander hit the wall hard. He barely had time to react before the fight had broken out, it had happened so swiftly. Justin had grabbed the Siskan without an ounce of mercy and flung him against the wall with pathetic ease. The impact of Zander's head shattered the mirror, sending web like cracks all the way down its long length. The Siskan raised his hands to defend himself but built in program inhibitors prevented him from acting further. He took another crushing blow to his face and crumpled on the floor with a whimper.

Justin stood over him his hands still fisted. His eyes were glazed and his body shook with rage. "You pathetic little freak! I catch you in here with him again, I'll have your files erased!"

Zander cowered, covering his face and wishing only for this horrible pain to stop. It went beyond the physical beating, Justin's shine was sparkly with black hate and furious hurt. The vibrations his body gave off were choking Zander like a poisonous fume even as he groveled on the floor.

Justin stepped back, satisfied, and turned to Bruce.

Bruce was standing with his mouth open, stunned. He'd never seen Justin lash out at anyone so violently and was shocked. He withered under Justin's angry stare and cowered himself, knowing he was in the shit now. Obviously he had been justified to worry about this affair, Justin wasn't going to sit still for any of it. "I'm so sorry!" he gasped, knowing he had to say something, anything to make this right again.

Justin went off, not the least bit placated by his lover's submission. "What do you think you're doing, fooling around with this toy? You've known me a long time! We grew up together! You know I won't share you, not even with this Siskan piece of trash! What were you thinking!"

"I don't know! I don't know! I was just curious about him because he was Siskan! I mean, Jeez, it's not like he's real or anything!" Bruce blurted out, hoping only to soothe his lover's wrath and get out of this.

Zander put his head to the floor and groaned, hurt more deeply from Bruce's words than Justin's fists. Here it was again, that constant reminder that he wasn't real, that he wasn't good enough to be loved. He shivered from the sharp pain slicing through his heart, his very soul.

"You decide now. Me or this stupid, worthless program!" Justin challenged, his voice shaking with emotion. He was trying to be the strong one here, the manly one, but he was deeply hurt by this betrayal and it showed.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I choose you! It's not even a question!" Bruce said, his voice shaking with emotion. He'd had no idea that Justin would take this so seriously.

Justin looked into Bruce's eyes and saw his sincerity and fear. He took it as a sign that Bruce's love for him was still neatly in its place and was satisfied. He swallowed heavily and composed himself. "Then let's go. It's time for practice."

Justin grabbed his property in the form of Bruce and dragged him out, not being the least bit gentle. He was calming down, but was still gruff enough to have his lover submit, even to this. Bruce allowed it and never looked back, not even once as he was towed away.

As soon as he was alone, Zander groaned and rose unsteadily. He leaned into the sink and coughed painfully, vomiting up a wad of grey gel. He was overcome with emotion and the shock of being beaten, his artificial body simply hadn't been designed for this level of abuse. Pain was always hard for him and this had been simply awful. Grey fluid poured from his mouth as he heaved into the basin again. It wasn't real vomit or blood, it simply shimmered as it warmed and disappeared away into thin air. Zander's body was one huge agony, the pain was horrible, terrible. He'd never felt anything like the repeated emotional and physical assaults he received in this place. Not even Zartak had beaten him this way.

Zander pumped some water and washed his face as he started to cry. His hands trembled with shock and he splashed water everywhere. He didn't notice it much, he was so sick of being trapped here with all of these hateful and violent vibrations. It was awful. If there was any love here, it was as far away from him as it could possibly be.

Zander looked up into the shattered mirror and saw his fractured face, the splintering of who he had become here. It would prove to be an eerie predictor of the future. He felt a surge of self loathing for his weakness and this pathetic existence. He raised his fist to punch the hated image, wanting nothing more for this face, for this life to be over and ended. This was new for him, this bitter self hatred. He'd always been loved and so loved himself. Here he was despised and abused because he wasn't real and it was affecting him badly.

Zander saw his raised fist with Young Kimble's eyes and heart and started to shake as he lowered it, surprised at his feelings. "I am, too, real!" he sobbed, miserable. "I ain't trash, I'm real! Sheyman, please! Ya gots ta come back and git me out of here! I gots ta git outta here, please...!" He broke down completely, bawling freely and without shame, the perfect picture of complete and utter misery.

Zander was filled with pain, not just from Justin's blows and Bruce's harsh words. He never got used properly here, not the way he was supposed to. Not the way he was made for. He'd been here for five weeks, liberated from the Dognan shelves by the Clan. Instead of being used for pleasure, someone had the bright idea of using the Siskan holograms for training. Day in day out, he'd been forced to work as a sparring partner for the Clan men as they trained in the war against the Dognan. He was hit, bashed, yelled at, abused, and never given the sweet release he needed to overcome it all.

He could physically feel the Clan's violent vibrations humming around in the air and bouncing off of the walls. The violence was all around him. He felt it even if it wasn't directed at him. It was like a horrible drumming in his ears, terrible and constant. All of the arrogance of the men and their constant bickering was tearing away at him and driving him mad. He didn't possess the skills to protect himself from the mental bombardment. Even with Zartak, Young Kimble had gotten by because the sessions with clients kept him going. Those small doses of love were still there, holding him up. He didn't have that here. He'd never gone this long before without being properly used.

This wasn't just about sex, it was the intimacy he craved. That split second where, for just one moment, he was the bright shining center of someone else's universe. He was important. He was loved, even if it was for just one time. He wasn't looking for permanence, just the repetition of that love flowing over him again and again. Just one dose of that wonderful healing love would have rubbed out a great deal of the pain he was trying to deal with now. His young and budding personality, designed for much gentler pursuits, could not cope with the constant mental and physical abuse that had become his new daily fare. He sobbed now as he fell to the cold stone floor, abandoning all hope as he prayed for a death that would never come.

He wasn't the only one suffering. Remy was down on his knees as well, holding his face in agony. He had thought that since he wasn't sharing Young Kimble's body that he would be spared the physical pain of what the Siskan felt. He was wrong. He'd felt Justin's blow as if he'd received it himself.

Gambit was fast, Gambit was quick, Gambit had years of hand to hand training. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hit in the face like this and with such force. Making matters worse was the fact that Zander's misery was being dumped in on him as well. The pleasure room he had tolerated well enough because that had been fun. As lovely as that had been, what he was feeling now was ten times worse.

He knew what this was even if he was powerless to do anything about it. His meager empathy had just been given a serious upgrade, but he'd had no time to work with it. He had lived around enough telepaths and empaths in the Mansion to know that mental shields were required, not just for defense against attack, but just for day to day living. It was so easy for mental perceptives to get swamped by the emotions of others around them. He also knew that it could take months, even years for some empaths to build strong enough shields to protect themselves. He'd had no time. Gambit was strong willed like Wolverine and a survivor, but he'd had just about enough. He had no shields, not for all the emotional bombs going off all around him like this.

He let one sob get out of him before he could stop it, the tension and pain was too great, and he felt the pilot Kimble bump into him gently. "Not 'xactly one a my brighter moments, huh?" Kimble whispered. His voice was scratchy and strained. He was suffering himself but all of his programming was still in place, he was quick to comfort the nearest person in distress in spite of his own suffering. He put his arms around Remy and held him, just as he'd held Seth, trying to ease the sting of this.

Remy tried to pull himself together. He couldn't lose it out here, no shields or not. He might not be in the middle of some big mutant battle, but he was still on the job here. Granted, this was in many ways harder than an all out brawl, but he had to see Kimble through this the same as he would for any other troubled mutant. He had to keep his wits. He had to remember his training. He reached out, taking a hand from his face to touch Kimble's. "Je suis bien," he stammered. " 'M okay. Jus' give dis boy a minute, d'accorde?"

"I'm sorry 'bouts alla this, Rems. I truly am. It wuzn't my idear ta haves ya here," Kimble apologized. He could feel Remy's pain because he was holding him and Zander's because it was his own. "I wouldn't ever want nobody ta be feelin' this, least of all you cuz I loves ya. I means that." He gave Remy another comforting squeeze. "I'm real sorry. Please don' hates me. I'm so sorry!"

Remy wiped his eyes as he felt some of the pain dissipate. Kimble was taking some of it, the pilot's presence was a relief. It would have been a lot worse if he'd been here alone. Gambit gathered himself, falling back into the role of protector and helper. He could compartmentalize this if he thought about it hard enough, he could get through this by thinking only of his friend and not himself and collapse later, preferably into a big bottle of whiskey. He was an X-man after all, trained for extreme stress. He could do this. "Je suis bien, don't worry. Gambit don' 'ate you. 'E's just not used to de abuse, mon ami," he gasped in a weak joke, a feeble attempt at levity.

Kimble smiled, relieved to see it. Remy must not be that mad, not if he was trying to joke around. "Don' worry, it's almost done."

"Dis de worst of it, non? S'il vous plait?"

Kimble put his head down on Gambit's shoulder. "No."


	14. Chapter 14

(Fourteen)

Logan watched Remy fall and start to break without being able to comprehend any of what he saw. Yeah, Gambit was an emotional kid, quick to laugh, quick to hurt, but he had never seen him break like this on a mission before, not like that. Remy had been upset at Nine because of Peter's reminder of the Morlocks, but this was different. This was a mission, on the floor working, not a private moment of reflection. There had been no explanation for the way Remy was reacting now, the kid hadn't been touched by any of the participants, but when Zander went down, so had Remy and the pilot as well, though he had come to Remy's aid.

"What the hell is going on?" Logan complained. "Why is Gambit all fucked up?"

Henry was close by. "My best guess would be that our dear Gambit must be linked to Kimble in some way. See, he fell just as Kimble did. He's reacting the same way that young girl did before, and now as Zander did here as well. They must be bonded empathically if not telepathically as well. It's the simplest explanation."

Logan felt horror at the idea. Kimble or Zander --- or whoever the hell the Siskan was that given day --- may have deserved the beating, but Remy sure hadn't. He knew it must've been awful, they both had crumpled in perfect time, the perfect image of mutual misery. He was angry and frustrated that he was helpless here and couldn't do anything to help his teammate. He glared at Seth on the screen. "Can't ya stop this? Remy's gettin' his ass kicked!"

"Sorry, sir, but I'm locked out. Whatever Sheyman did locked both me and Kimble out. Neither one of us can stop it."

Seth wasn't looking much better than Remy at this moment. He had spent most of the playback hunched over with his hands hovering about his ears, his eyes red with tears he was fighting back. He wasn't able to watch all of it, Zander's vicious beating in particular. Kimble had told him nothing of his past so all of this was new to him. He wasn't prepared for any of it, his personal aversion to violence making this very painful for him. He forced himself to stay active and not shut down because Fallen might need him. If not for that, he would have closed own long ago.

Logan wasn't happy with Seth's answer and started growling again. He was unconsciously making fists with his hands, doing his best not to pop claws. If Remy came out of this damaged, someone was going to pay.

Next to him, Bruce made a small noise and turned his head away, ashamed. He'd had no idea what effect his drawing out the game had had on Zander. He didn't realize the depth of the hurt Justin's blows had caused, it never occurred to him that the Siskan could feel physical pain. He was like everyone else and figured that if Kimble wasn't real, his emotions weren't either. He felt horrible now, responsible, because he knew what was going to happen next. What a fool he had been.

Joseph saw him and kicked him with a sneer, ready to accuse. "Little faggot boy! Those men died because of you!"

"You never said how you knew Zander, Bruce. Now I can see why," Valentin added.

"It wasn't my fault!" Bruce whimpered.

"Too late for that now, son. Those men are dead and all because you couldn't control your pathetic, disgusting, pig rutting lust. You fuckin' queer boys make me want to puke!" Valentin said, his loathing all too plain in his voice.

"Quiet, boys. The rest of us want to listen," Henry ordered, his voice stern.

Beast had been leaning on the cage, nervously listening to Wolverine growl. He was in the isle at the outside edge of the cage room, near to his teammate. His fear was that Logan wouldn't be able to control his frustration and start lashing out.

He was painfully aware of Remy's situation, but couldn't bring himself to blame Kimble for it. Just as he understood that Remy was linked to Kimble somehow, so too he saw the pilot's distress and recognized it for what it was, the Siskan hadn't intended for Remy to be there. Beast just hoped that Remy's X-man training and survivor instincts would help him through everything that was going on. He wasn't looking too good right now and Beast could see Kimble wasn't exactly enjoying this either. It gave him some comfort to see Kimble trying to reassure Gambit in spite of his own suffering, it gave Henry faith in Kimble's loyalty to his new friend. It could be worse for Remy right now if the pilot had given up and thought only of himself.

Henry was watching the files, but was also trying to keep an eye on everyone out here. He was a doctor and in charge for now. Maylee could have helped him out, but she was a child and he was concerned for her as well. What a fright she had had, seeing Kimble stabbed like that. He didn't believe that as a child, she should be seeing all of this, certainly not the sex file that had played. Unfortunately, there was no place for her to go. He certainly didn't want her left alone, either. He also knew that she'd seen Valentin at work regularly or at least the aftermath. She had been calm and quiet through it all, that none of this seemed all that surprising to her had saddened him a little. He hoped there wasn't too much more of this. The best thing for them all was for this to end so they could get past it and go home.

From her spot in the isle, Fallen was silently crying, the tears streaming down her face. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never witnessed Kimble break down and cry like Zander did. Zander's misery was more than she could bear. She pulled Kimble's lifeless body up into her lap and held him as if he could feel her love if she only squeezed him tightly enough.

"Kimble, wake up! Wake up!" she cried to him, demanding his obedience. If she could wake him up, maybe the files would stop. Her efforts were in vain.


	15. Chapter 15

(Fifteen)

Zander rose eventually from the stone locker room floor. He got up stiffly and washed his face again, trying to recover. He had work to do and he was already late. He walked in a daze out into the hallways of Clan Station nine and into the training room, the invisible Remy and Kimble ghosts in tow. Zander kept his face partially covered with one hand, hoping no one would notice he'd been struck. He came into the training room and hesitated, he had glimpsed Justin and Bruce arguing all the way in the back. Bruce hadn't seen him come in and Zander didn't want him to.

Zander quickly went to his work area, a place set aside for the Siskans with their power cubes, and crouched down, putting his things in order. He was about to charge himself on the cubes in hopes of repairing the injury to his face, but froze as a shadow passed over him.

"You're late again!" his new handler complained. Before he could respond, Zander was lashed with a sharp crack of a whip.

Zander, Remy and Kimble all cried out simultaneously. Gambit and Kimble had been standing close by and they both fell to their knees. All three of them felt the bite and sting of the lash, but for Zander it was much worse. The blow from the lash did not cut him, that was not it's intent, but he felt a sharp pain as something broke deep inside. He squeezed his eyes shut holding back the tears that sprang instantly to his eyes. He covered his ears and shivered, looking so much like Seth at that moment. He was very close to shutting down.

"You best get your act together, you stupid 'gram," his handler continued. "I won't keep putting up with your crap. I'll have you shut down, I swear it! This is your last warning!" The man kicked him and walked away without further comment. At one point in their lives, all Clansmen were beaten, that was just their way of life. He didn't need to be told that his blow had hurt Zander deeply.

"You okay?" Kimble asked Remy, reaching out again.

Gambit couldn't answer. He was going into shock and almost shutting down himself. He couldn't possibly take this for much longer, not hit after hit, emotional bomb after emotional bomb. It was like being sucker punched by an invisible foe and not even close to a fair fight. His hands had cupped over his ears just as Zander had done in an attempt to block out the worst of this.

Kimble slid an arm around him and began to repeat all his empty, useless apologies. He knew there was nothing he could do to make this any better, it was all too much for anyone to bear. Kimble felt horrible because Remy wasn't supposed to be here and was feeling quite a bit more than Kimble wanted him to. This should be his personal nightmare, not Remy's, too. It wasn't fair and Kimble told him so. Gambit said nothing in reply, but put his hand over Kimble's to at least let him know he was being heard and that his attempt to comfort him was appreciated.

Meanwhile, Zander had reached out and lay his trembling hands on two black cubes nearby. Power from the cubes seeped into him and removed the visible signs of that day's abuse. They didn't take away all of the pain, nothing ever would, but he needed to power up to work. He closed his eyes and tried to regain control.

Remy felt the instant relief from the power cubes and let go of his pain in one long breath. He felt much better, like someone had splashed him with cold water. He was reviving and was coming around out of his shock. It was enough to help him ease back into the role of observer and gave him hope that he might yet find a way out of this. He stayed down on his knees, comfortable for what this was, and took in the sounds and sights of the room.

A group of Clansmen men entered close to him, they were boisterous and loud, talking about an event that had happened earlier in the week. One man was talking saying. "So they drag her in, all hissin' an' spittin', this little tiny pilot. Man, I've never seen anything like her. She's fightin' an' flappin' her wings all around. She slashed Jaska right across the face. You shoulda heard him squeal!"

The men laughed and he continued. "So in walks Valentin, all tough like, you know? He hears they're gonna kill her, right? He says 'What a stupid fuckin' waste.' and goes right up to her. He grabs her face and she spits tight in his eye."

One of the men groaned humorously, covering his face.

"Wait --- Wait! Get this. He hits her...and she doesn't fall. She's like a third of his size, right? She doesn't fall. Just stands there and laughs at him like she's fuckin' crazy or something. I've never seen anything like it, I swear. You know what he does? He just holds her face and looks her right in the eyes. Just stares at her and she don't move. They're lookin' at each other, into each other like they can read their minds or somethin'. Than he just laughs and leads her away. She's following him like a dog that's been trained all it's life. I've never seen anything like it," the speaker repeated, awestruck.

"You've got to get some new stories," Valentin said, walking in.

Zander opened his eyes. Valentin was behind him, his first client of the day.

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"You okay, Fallen?" Seth asked, his voice shaking with emotion. He hadn't been prepared for Valentin's appearance.

"I'll be all right," she whispered softly.

"Well, I'll be damned," Valentin whispered. He'd forgotten all about meeting Zander before. He remembered the incident, but not what had preceded it.

"Figures you wouldn't remember," Bruce sneered with a confidence unusual for him. His bitterness and guilt were making him bold. "You're just as much to blame as me, maybe even more. He was just another victim on your casualty list. You have no idea how many people you've hurt or killed, do you? You just go about your day, spreading your pain, and then you move on. You're just as bad as the Dognan, if not worse. At least they've got a reason for what they do. What's your excuse?"

Valentin didn't speak but lashed out at Bruce with his feet. It hurt for him to move, but he didn't care. He growled in agony as Henry shoved him back.

"That'll be enough of that," Henry warned. "You guys settle down. We've all seen enough fighting over stupid things. What's done is done. We'll just have to deal with it --- like civilized men."

"There isn't anything civilized about Valentin," Bruce snarled. "He's nothing but a big bully and an asshole. Just watch."

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Zander stood slowly and faced Valentin.

"Who's this?" Valentin sneered.

"This is Zander," one of Valentin's buddies said. "He's the best Siskan we got for practice. I reserved him for you. He's supposed to be pretty tough."

Valentin inspected Zander with doubt. "He looks kind of soft and pretty to me."

Zander looked up at him expressionless and said nothing. This is what he was here for after all, a target to be used for practice. He was here to work and Valentin was just another Clansman to him. He opened his arms in invitation and the two men adopted stances. In the training room, the inhibitors didn't work and Zander was free to act. It wouldn't do for the target to simply stand there after all, he was there to spar and spar they did.

Zander was very skilled. In this new incarnation, he possessed a large number of fighting files and knew them well. The Clan programmers had crammed him full of files for hand to hand combat, sword fighting and bow shooting. Zander accessed those files automatically, giving them no thought, and tossed Valentin about easily. Zander never boasted, never said a word. He was dull and empty inside, but his moves were flawless. He was still the perfectionist and more than a match for this opponent. He felt every blow, but returned each one in kind. Valentin grew angry, his rage making it that much easier for Zander to maneuver.

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Logan wasn't watching Valentin on the screen, he was looking past him to the mirror that was on the back wall. He could see Zander clearly. Zander was nimble and sure, almost dancing as he moved. He was fluid and smooth. It was like watching Remy at work, that cat like grace where his feet never seemed to touch the ground.

Logan would never admit it to Gambit's face, but he thought Gambit was beautiful to watch. He was acrobatic and feline as he would move around his opponents, dazzling them with his mouth as easily as his fists. No one could touch him because he was just too damn fast. He always had his next move planned. He never seemed to be taken by surprise from anything his target did. That was Zander now. The only difference was, Zander had no love for this craft. He was as good as he was because of the files and he had been a dancer. He knew his body well and was in control of his every movement. He was flexible and strong, but not a bruiser like Logan. He found no thrill in this.

One thing Wolverine did acknowledge with caution. Zander was quiet and the quiet ones were the most dangerous. Sloppy fighters were always running their mouths off, telegraphing their intentions. Zander didn't do that. He was ice cold and relentless as he circled Valentin like prey, a machine now in every sense of the word. He gave the big man no outs and wore him down just as Wolverine would have done. Zander was smooth, skilled, and calculating on the mat. Logan prayed silently that Kimble would not retain any of Zander's fighting skill just from watching the file.

"Why can't Kimble fight like this now?" Maylee asked Fallen who still held her close.

"They took the files from him when he was broken," Fallen replied. "They took those files and tore his memory apart so he wouldn't be like that ever again."

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Zander continued to outpace Valentin until the large man ran out of steam. Down and down Valentin went. He was still young and hadn't the fighting skills he possessed today. Zander flipped him over his shoulder like a huge rag doll and stepped back without comment. Valentin lay on the mat, his sides heaving. Zander offered his hand to help him up and Valentin took it.

On the way up he hissed in Zander's ear, "I heard all you Siskan pretty boys're queer. Just because you beat me doesn't give you the right to follow me around. You even think about comin' on to me, I'll rip you limb from limb!" The threat was sincere. To make his point, he crushed Zander's hand in his own. If Zander had possessed real bones, at least one of them would surely have broken.

Zander's body, tuned to absorb the gentlest loving touch, shot the slivers of agony all up and down his arm. The same programming codes that allowed him to feel every nuance and vibration from a lover, forced him now to feel the hate and damage caused by a physical assault. An invisible, silent bomb went off in his belly, filling his guts with shreds of glass. He couldn't stop the squeal of pain that came from his mouth. Valentin raised his fist and Zander cowered. The hate and loathing vibrations coming from Valentin's body flooded his senses, choking him like poison gas. His belly heaved but he was determined not to give Valentin the satisfaction of watching him puke right here at his feet. This was just Valentin establishing his dominance. He had to save face after being beaten so easily.

Zander gave obeisance, laying himself flat on his hands and knees. He knew his place in the Clan was less than the dirt on Valentin's boots. It was beaten and kicked and whipped into him day after day and he knew it well. His hand ached horribly and he curled it under himself with a whimper. Valentin laughed and walked away, satisfied. He left with the gang and never saw Zander again until he was here watching these files on the Lucky Dragon.

Zander crawled back to the cubes and lay his hands on them, but they did nothing for him anymore. The real damage was deep inside where a power cube could never reach. He was shaking now, badly. He had reached his end. The bomb was made, the timer activated. All that remained was the actual explosion. It wouldn't be long in coming.

Meanwhile, Remy was still on his knees. His recess from the pain and shock of Kimble's life was over and he was back in his well of never ending suffering. His eyes had glazed over as he gripped his hand tightly. Like before when the pleasure had been too much, Remy gave up and let himself get swallowed by the pain and misery. He had been unprepared for the painful vibrations that had come from Valentin. He had never felt malice and hatred come at him like that before and it was worse than the heavy blow from Justin's fists. It was as good as a weapon, like a choking poison gas. Kimble was there for him again, but he couldn't really feel it. He was going numb like a drowning man with no hope of rescue, his body beginning to shut down again. He was at his end.

Kimble pulled Remy against him again, gripping him tightly. He was going numb himself. He watched the unfolding horror dispassionately, knowing that the end was just about here. "Jus' close yer eyes, Remy. It's almost over," he promised like a mother would to her child right before the runaway plane would crash and burn them all.

A man cleared his throat behind Zander, an unspoken demand that the Siskan rise in spite of the fact that he was clearly struggling. Zander looked behind him to see his next opponent, seeing the Clansman only in a fog of red. Zander nodded weakly and rose to face him. He knew this man. He was new and inexperienced, no challenge here. Zander didn't even try to really spar with him, he had nothing left. Still, he wrestled the man down easily, feeling him squirm uselessly below him. An evil laugh trickled from Zander's mouth as his lips pulled back in an angry sneer, the man's struggles had aroused him.

The Clansman knew it. He wasn't happy about it and said something mean, jerking his body in an attempt to unhorse the Siskan who had him pinned. This last vibration of hate was all it took to finish Zander. He barely felt the white hot blast of pent up rage that took him over and then blinded him. He would punish this man, he would punish them all for everything he'd been forced to put up and endure. In one smooth movement, he grabbed the man's head and twisted it violently, snapping his neck with a loud, sickening crack.

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"Oh, Kimble..." Fallen breathed, stunned. "Oh, no!"

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His head suddenly clear, Zander stood over the murdered Clansman, shocked and horrified by what he'd just done. This wasn't supposed to happen. Wasn't supposed to be possible. The Siskans may have been decadent and promiscuous, but they were peaceful and lent this trait to all of their products. The Clan hadn't needed to install a no-kill file, it was built in when Kimble had been made. Zander looked up as the room grew quiet. The sound of those bones breaking was like a gunshot in here, everyone knew what it had been. They were all looking at him now in suspicion, cutting into him with their hate and loathing.

Zander's vision slowly turned red again.

He didn't care. He wanted what the Dognan slavers had stolen from him. He wanted nothing more than the sweet release of Death. He wanted Sheyman to come and take his pain and he no longer cared what he had to do to make that happen.

Zander put his hands up in surrender, but was ready when the first man came at him with a sword. There was a brief bloody fight and when the dust settled, Zander stood in a pool of blood holding the dripping weapon, his opponent ripped and bleeding below him.

He threw his head back and howled, filled with the power to act and the thrill of the kill. He raised the man's sword and charged the crowd, his mind gone. All sense of who he was or who he had been before was gone, washed away in a river of blood and hatred. He had the files to kill, maim, and disable, and used them with cruel efficiency, killing whoever came in his way. It didn't take him long to discover a system that worked best for him, he held a broadsword in one hand, a dagger in the other, moving with the deadly grace Wolverine had always feared, a graceful dancer of death. He was not only stronger than these humans, he was also quite a bit faster. Moving with preternatural speed, he was mowing them down like a threshing machine.

He was moving with a singular purpose -- death by Clansmen -- but wasn't approaching that without guile. He was making steady progress towards the back of the room and away from the safety of the door. He was growing ever closer to where Bruce and Justin stood at the back of the room. If he was going to go out with a bang, he might as well punish those who had inspired this in the first place.

Zander was too much in his fury to react to the sight of the blood and gore all around him, this version of Kimble had no revulsion at the sight of torn flesh and flying body parts. No, it only inspired him to continue and he soon had a pile of carnage at his feet, a wall of at least ten hacked and dismembered men down of him, before Justin was able to grab a bow and find an opportunity to fire a shot into the raging Siskan. The large black arrow took hold of Zander in the chest, a perfect heart shot if he'd had one. The pain brought a renewed frenzy to Zander's will and he charged all the harder, but the shot cost him. He missed a step in his elegant stride and someone behind him used it as an opportunity to breach his defenses, running him straight through the middle with a large sword.

If Zander thought he knew what pain was, he was sadly mistaken. The sword that impaled him like a spike not only brought a new definition of pain and suffering, it also brought with it a sudden return to reality. The red cloud was gone, the savage spirit that fueled it was gone. He slid a little on his feet as gel oozed out from the blade stuck in his guts and dribbled down his legs to the floor. It smoked as it left him, so much cooler than the air that it was misting and not quite shimmering away so quickly.

The Clansmen stood in a circle around him, waiting to see if he was going to fall now or fight, the whole incident as bewildering to them as it was to Zander. The Siskan stood there panting, bloodied weapons in hand. He didn't possess the strength or desire to pull out the sword that was hanging out of him like an exaggerated mechanical key for a toy, so he left it as he tottered in place like a drunk.

_Let's do this, let's end it,_ came a voice into Zander's poor shattered mind, the voice of a tiny girl. Sheyman's little lover. _Let's go home to father_.

"All righty then..." Zander wheezed, regrouping. He could do this, he could end this great pain. He was strong, he was the punisher of all who had ever wronged them. He gave a great shout and stepped forward, needing only to wave his weapons around to restart the fight.

Justin cursed and reloaded another arrow, not quite fast enough to stop another of the men in front of him from being slaughtered before his eyes. Zander was coming closer to him with each step. Bruce had backed away behind Justin, up against the rear stone wall of the room, his eyes wide with terror. He knew there was nowhere for him and Justin to escape.

"He's not going down!" someone shouted in alarm. "Bring the shocking gun!"

The Clansmen had collected many strange weapons from the technologically superior Dognan and even if they didn't know the technical names for such devices, were quick enough to learn their use. Zander screamed and finally went down for good as a bolt of lightning came out of nowhere and struck him in the back.

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Wolverine, still watching the fight through the large mirror in the training room, grunted in surprise when he recognized the weapon. It was an old Taser, a large and clunky prototype of the device he had come to know in this modern age. He could see Zander didn't take it well, the Siskan collapsed and jerked wildly on the ground, his skin flickering in and out. At first Logan was pleased to see this come to end, but then he realized that whatever happened to this incarnation of Kimble happened to Remy as well.

"Fuck!" he shouted in alarm and rose to his feet as he saw the ghostly image of both the pilot Kimble and Gambit twitching and writhing on the ground as well. He couldn't help himself from crying out uselessly, "Stop this!"

Henry had come to his side, a hand there to steady to him, but there was no comfort he could give that would make any of this better. At least it didn't last long, not a moment later the weapon had discharged all of it power and Zander lay still.

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Zander was down but he wasn't finished. Remy lay next to him, a transparent visitor to this nightmare. He was in no position to do anything now except wheeze in mental agony, he was just as numb and immobilized as Zander was, a mere observer on this train wreck speeding to its inevitable crash. He was still linked to Zander's mind and he knew the Siskan wasn't gone, not just yet. They were both paralyzed, numb to everything, the pain of this included. Still Zander was hopeful. It would come now, his death, and how sweet it would be.

"Is it dead?" someone asked.

"No, just down."

"Bleed it out!" Justin said, stepping into view. "It tried to kill us! They should all be destroyed!"

"No!" another man objected, coming up on Zander's right. If Zander could have wept with hopelessness then, he would have. He knew this voice. It belonged to Dan, the Curator of files. This was the man who had stolen his former skins and tried so foolishly to change his name. Dan was coming closer, his eyes gleaming with ill disguised greed. "No, let me fix it. It's too valuable to be destroyed. I can remove some of the files and it'll be just fine, I promise!"

"You can't be serious!" Justin howled, but he was pushed back by others here in charge. Valentin was nearby, not quite First General yet, and didn't argue. He stood there looking on the downed Siskan, a strange satisfied look on his face. He wasn't going to stop this.

Zander screamed internally, his frozen body not making a sound. Even in this he had no say, he couldn't even pull off his own death without being outvoted by some human committee. There was no word that could describe this great despair, it swallowed him whole and broke his mind, completing the shattering that had begin the moment Sheyman had died. Gambit howled with him, a scream that was suddenly aborted as the power to the hologram was abruptly shut off. Zander was gone into the black, taking Remy with him.

To be continued in Going Home.


End file.
